


Twelve Dates of Yule

by theunpaidcritic



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Romantic Comedy, and frankly the writer is trying to write in that same tropey style, based very loosely on the reality show twelve dates of christmas, there are some background ships but it seems disingenuous to tag them, this fic is written with love for all the holiday trope films
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28157733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunpaidcritic/pseuds/theunpaidcritic
Summary: After meeting and falling for Brienne Tarth during a film production at Winterfell, Jaime Lannister will do anything to get her attention.Even if it means working on a ridiculous reality television show.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 299
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is very, very loosely based on HBO Max's new reality TV show Twelve Dates of Christmas. Three leads do a very intense speed-dating session at an Austrian castle in an attempt to find someone to bring home for the holidays. Chaos ensues. Brienne and Jaime work behind the scenes in this fic, but the events of their version of the show will be a minor subplot.
> 
> This is literally just a chance for me to unabashedly write holiday fluff with the confidence of a Hallmark movie writer, not obsessively caring about all of the little details. So if you want to read holiday tropes, you're in the right place.
> 
> I am about halfway done (I think?), and so I'll be posting as I go. No update schedule, but hopefully will finish posting by the end of the holiday season.
> 
> Thanks to cytara for the beta-read!!
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone! I hope you enjoy!

_If modern Westeros bore little resemblance to the Age of Ice and Fire_ , Brienne Tarth mused as she lingered in Winterfell’s godswood enjoying the autumn wind, _then at least the population’s obsession with the era allowed a few of the prominent families of history to maintain their standing_.

And why she had a job that paid a livable wage that allowed her to actually use her degree.

Her own ancestors had lost their estate not long after the Great War, as the Tarths had refused to reimagine the island’s economy to cope with the global market.

The more innovative ancient houses had managed to maintain both their titles and properties. While the more conservative Lannisters had blanched at opening Casterly Rock for something as gauche as a public wedding venue, the family had ruthlessly (and fortunately) invested in technological advancements throughout the centuries to the point that they could happily maintain their private residence and limit public tours to their whims. The Tyrells had learned how to gain the favor of the media; it would not be inaccurate to state that the most prominent individuals of the family could be labelled as social influencers, both in Westeros and abroad. But perhaps the Starks had found the most exciting way to hold on to Winterfell: they commonly allowed their home to be used as a set for films and television.

After the surprise smash success of _Darkwood Abbey_ , which used Winterfell as the fictionalized castle at the centerpiece of upstairs/downstairs drama, the public demand to tour the semi-forgotten but still magnificent castle had grown at such a rate that the current Lord and Lady Stark had hired Brienne to manage the public life of the house. 

Perhaps such employment was not what one traditionally did with an advanced history degree, but Brienne felt fortunate her position allowed her to indulge in her love of the Long Night, both legends and historical fact, particularly as several big-shot producers had recently decided that audiences wanted historical epics. And Winterfell’s status as a historical landmark (and audience appeal) could not be ignored.

Lady Catelyn Stark, overburdened with her husband’s political life and her children’s choices in both career and partner, had asked Brienne to negotiate with the crews, in addition to handling publicity and the tours. It had become Brienne’s favorite part of the job, as at times during each production, she felt as if she were walking in ancient Westeros. She saw battles come to _life_.

Occasionally, Brienne had been able to use her knowledge to help the crews maintain historical accuracy.

This year, she had even been able to convince an arrogant location manager (and the uncredited but not-so-secret producer of the hit Song of Ice and Fire film series) that no, he did _not_ wish to film refugees from the Battle for the Dawn hidden away in Winterfell’s crypts. (While Brienne herself put no stock into the more mythic retellings of the Long Night — that the Others truly had the power to raise the dead — she had argued that if _his_ production insisted on putting what amounted to ice zombies on screen, they could at least ensure the Living had the intelligence to remember the major reason their opponents were menacing. Even the most contrarian of men could not argue with _that._ )

But Brienne could not think of Jaime Lannister too unkindly, as he had somehow seen to it that she — not just the Winterfell Estate or the Starks — had been personally thanked in the credits of _Winds of Winter_. And he had sent an advanced copy, one missing key special effects, to _her_ as a thank you. (While she did not fully understand the nuances of the film industry, she highly suspected that she should absolutely not have access to such an unfinished product.)

But she could not be anything but grateful for such acknowledgement and even such trust that she would maintain the secrecy of the film. Very few location managers thanked _her,_ period. Despite her embarrassment at receiving such attention, something about the fact that Jaime Lannister had respected her opinions, had not only somehow used his pull to _change_ the film, but had also seen their arguments as valuable enough to publicly acknowledge as such, warmed her.

Perhaps when he had asked her to lunch and dinner and even coffee, he had truly wanted to spend time with her. Perhaps she would have enjoyed herself had she accepted. Perhaps it was better she had _not_ , as production had wrapped more quickly than expected, and Jaime had moved on at the end of the summer.

They weren’t friends, they had merely shared a workspace — for less than half a year — and there was no reason he would have offered to keep in touch; she certainly was not going to make the first overture. 

She had no trouble seeing to the removal of rowdy hooligans from the grounds but could not risk rejection from someone whose company she occasionally enjoyed. Her resolve to keep their relationship professional, if temporarily and semi-frequently merrily antagonistic, served her well when Lady Stark met Brienne in the godswood and informed her that a new dating show would be filmed in Winterfell over the winter holidays.

Jaime Lannister’s franchise certainly had no reason to return to Winterfell, not when _Winds of Winter_ ended with spring returning to the North; she suspected the major characters would migrate South in the final installment. Brienne tried to brush thoughts of what could not be aside and instead chose to direct her energies toward not showing her horror at the thought of polluting Winterfell with trashy parties by what would likely be vapid leads.

“A reality show?” she had asked, and perhaps Brienne did not hide her incredulity well, as Lady Stark sighed.

“I know it is not quite in keeping with Winterfell’s more traditionally upstanding image,” she said. “But WBO’s offer alone is enough to fund the initial stages of the cottage renovations, and the filming schedule will be quite convenient for the family —”

After what Brienne could only classify as double-speak, too many compliments about her efficiency and integrity, and half-aborted apologies, Lady Stark confirmed Brienne would be needed at Winterfell for the duration of filming.

“If I believed Podrick could handle it, I wouldn’t ask. You of all of use deserve a holiday — I know how hard you’ve worked this year, but Jaime Lannister would steamroll the poor boy.”

Brienne choked. “I-I’m sorry? Jaime Lannister is the location manager for … this? Is this, uh, show going to somehow incorporate sword fights? A duel for a date?”

“I believe it’s focused on helping single young people find a date they can bring home for the holidays through a … heightened … speed-dating. I believe the words used were ‘bring a holiday love story to life,’ and I don’t believe he meant with a medieval twist. Yes, it does seem to be quite an odd fit, so I’d like you to keep an eye on the man.”

Brienne assured her employer she would do her utmost to fulfill the task at hand.

The Stark and Lannister families maintained an unhealthy suspicion of one another that could be traced back to the aftermath of Robert’s Rebellion by modern scholars. Historically speaking, the most public interest this feud had generated was during the late Regency period, when the young lady of the Lannister house had eloped with a Stark second son. The marriage had _not_ brought the families closer, and while Brienne had once made the mistake of suggesting showcasing this history during the public Winterfell tour to Lord Stark, she was careful not to make it again. Brienne was willing to bet Jaime Lannister’s only ulterior motive in accepting such a job would be to further explore the history of Winterfell, but she was under no illusions that her employers would be in any way reassured by her claims of knowing a Lannister well.

Instead, she negotiated the terms of her increased workload and tried to avoid feeling any excitement whatsoever that Jaime Lannister would once again be in her orbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not planning to do extensive endnotes like I do for my Jane Austen AU fic (if you're familiar with that one), but I will say Winterfell is partially inspired by Highclere Castle where they filmed Downton Abbey, and there will be other references to historical and pop culture events throughout this story.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy where this goes!


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your support on the first chapter! 
> 
> This chapter makes references to several reality shows, including Love Is Blind ... and if you're into the reality show AU, you should absolutely read cytara's AU for that particular show. (And, of course, thanks to cytara for early feedback on this chapter.)
> 
> I'm continuing to post as I go, so expect more updates soon!

Jaime did not know _what_ he had done to be doomed to a lifetime of Lannister brunches.

Particularly when Cersei, who usually made them bearable with her cutting remarks that so aptly exposed hypocrisy, had decided to attempt having a serious relationship.

And Cersei had the foresight to understand that the key to relationship success (as a child of Lord Tywin Lannister) was to avoid introducing a partner to the Lannisters before marriage.

And perhaps after.

(Apparently, no exceptions were to be made, even for him. That did not sting _at all,_ and Jaime certainly had not resolved to withhold his own relationship status from Cersei out of revenge. He had certainly not voiced such petty thoughts to Tyrion who had certainly not laughed and asked, _What relationship?_ in the most mocking of tones.)

Jaime supposed the pain of being abandoned by his twin to the Lancels and the Cleoses of the family would not have hurt quite so badly if he had _someone_ he could go home to at the end of the day to complain about his family’s particular version of lunacy.

(Cersei was right about not wanting to subject a partner to the Lannisters.)

The sheer number of Lannister cousins with their personal quirks and irritating vices should have made it difficult for Jaime to pinpoint his least favorite relative, but then Lancel had married Amerei Frey. And, while he appreciated just how scandalized his father was at the marriage, Jaime could not say this benefit outweighed the pain of interacting with the woman who had risen to fame for her antics on _The Bachelor_ , then _The Bachelorette,_ then at least one of the franchise’s spin-offs. Particularly when she had turned her attentions onto him.

(Amerei had been the only woman in the history of the network to appear on all of the franchise's shows, even that short-lived winter sports one … although, much to the relief of his father, Lancel had met her _after_ her last appearance. The tabloids had lost interest in Amerei by then, so the link between a reality star and the Lannister family was not quite as public as it could have been.)

But Jaime was willing to admit he had underestimated Amerei, who had developed several successful reality shows and used her name (and her husband’s family fortune) to see them through production. Even Jaime could not argue with the buzz and ratings surrounding her newest Westflix show. This begrudging admiration, however, could not counter the particular bitterness he felt as he had to hear about how Amerei had orchestrated _true love_ through … pods? … at _another_ family brunch.

After _Winds of Winter_ had wrapped filming, Jaime had been at loose ends, which could only be the reason for the temporary lack of wits that explained his attendance at family events. Despite spending his spring and summer in the grey north (it was grey no matter what the season, even after the last snow had melted), Casterly Rock seemed even dimmer than usual, filled with sycophants using the title he eschewed in his professional life and disappointed glares from his father that Jaime was, indeed, still working such a vulgar job. There was no one to critique him, no one to playfully tease, no one capable of discussing the history of Westeros weaponry, no one whose eyes were worth admiring when she was absorbed in her work.

Unfortunately, he would not be needed for the filming of _Dream of Spring_ until the weather matched the title of the film; work no longer gave him an excuse to miss Lannister gatherings. And, in a fit of moral pique, the studio had decided that the cast and crew needed a holiday — he would only need to attend the premiere of _Winds of Winter_ a week before winter celebrations truly began. What was the point of having an independent career if it did not give him an easy excuse to be separated from his family at the times most convenient to him?

Lord Tywin Lannister might not approve of his son’s career (the only career he would have liked Jaime to have was one in Parliament), but at least he understood dedication to one’s work.

But now work was shutting down, precisely when he needed it the most.

The holidays would be unbearable.

Cersei had declared she was going to Dorne (likely to continue hiding her relationship from their father), Tyrion was pretending he did not care about being dumped (it was his own fault, but Jaime wasn’t going to tell him _that_ ), and his father — his father! — claimed to be bringing home a _date._

Jaime had been unable to get Brienne to agree to _one coffee,_ but his father had a _date for the holidays months in advance._ Jaime had, in fact, failed to get Brienne’s personal number. In a last-ditch effort at contact, he had sent her a personalized thank you and advanced copy of _Winds of Winter_ he wasn’t really supposed to share with the public. But even _that_ grand gesture was incapable of eliciting a response.

He doubted she was still thinking about him, months later. He doubted she reminisced about their first meeting — how they had argued about battle tactics with such passion both had forgotten all else — the way _he_ did. He doubted she cared to think about his physique, since Brienne was above such superficial judgments, in the same way he thought about her eyes, her smile, her muscles, how he was particularly interested … It was best not to let himself get lost in those thoughts, as he not only doubted, but was _sure,_ that she did not think well of his conduct, didn’t admire his work in the same way he admired _hers._ He had finally met someone he was genuinely, ardently interested in, and while Brienne was friendly (as friendly as Brienne could _be_ with her brusque behavior), she had made it clear all they would ever be was work colleagues.

This fact led Jaime to make a rather snippy remark when Amerei asked if he would be interested in working for her new show.

“Forgive him,” Tyrion said, in a tone Jaime thought rather lofty given how _he_ had mocked Amerei’s career. “He has bitter memories of Winterfell. A woman has done the unthinkable and turned him down, but _I’m sure he would love to return_ to help family.”

And that was how Jaime’s unrequited crush was revealed to all of his family ... 

(Aunt Genna believed this would be good for him, his father appeared to be even more disproving, likely thinking his interest was with the oldest Stark sister and _not_ someone who Lord Lannister would deem the help, Daven was hysterically cackling, Joy seemed to be texting someone furiously, Amerei looked rather triumphant like she had _known_ —) 

… and how he was convinced to accept a job where he would technically report to Amerei.

(His phone began to bing with messages from Cersei, solving the mystery of just who his cousin had been messaging. He had always liked Joy and did not understand _why she had betrayed him so quickly._ )

After Tyrion had recovered from hysterical fits of laughter — he sobered rather quickly at seeing his brother’s threatening gaze — he gave Jaime some inspiration, “Look, you’re there for the filming of a, quote ‘holiday rom-com come to life,’ surely you could put your skills to use and sweep the woman off her feet?”

Jaime rather suspected that nothing Amerei had planned for Winterfell would amuse, much less be romanticized by Brienne. Upon further reflection, he suspected he was rather stupid for taking the job in hopes of making a second — better — impression on the stern historian; if she had been outraged by the portrayal of Winterfell in _Winds of Winter_ , Jaime was quite sure she would have a lot to say about the use of her beloved, drafty castle in the oh-so-painfully-titled _Twelve Dates of Yule_.

At least he could bask in the attentions of her glare as he attempted to convince her he needed more access to the grounds than last time.

Tyrion’s parting shot for the afternoon quickly sobered him, “Perhaps this time you might begin by telling her how you feel.”

That truly might take a holiday miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime and Brienne finally reunite.
> 
> As always, I would love to know what you think!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again so much for your support on this little holiday story! 
> 
> I am once again forever grateful to cytara for beta-reading this chapter!

In anticipation of the _Twelve Dates of Yule_ pre-production, the Starks removed to Riverrun, with no plans to return to Winterfell until the New Year. In truth, Brienne was relieved to wish them happy holidays and be left in peace. Lady Stark had spent a great deal of time worrying over what havoc Amerei Lannister would have planned for a show whose name spelled so much … promise.

“I cannot say I am able to sing Jaime Lannister’s praises,” she had said in what Brienne had privately thought to be quite the understatement, “But I do have some hopes he can reign his cousin in — he lacks the patience to indulge _her_ kind of antics to do anything less.”

Brienne wondered how, exactly, Lady Catelyn knew what Jaime could bear, but supposed that the fact that they were raised in the same elite circle was enough explanation; Lady Catelyn’s demeanour certainly did not invite questions.

The two adult Stark children had interrupted Brienne’s work on multiple occasions when they should be packing for Riverrun to complain about their love lives. The impending holiday and the days that brought Jaime closer to Winterfell had already frayed Brienne’s nerves; it was all she could do to listen with feigned politeness as Lord Robb discussed being caught between _two_ women and left it up to his sister to explain just why he was being unfair to _both_ women. For her part, Lady Sansa had delicately wept while cryptically and mournfully speaking of lost love. Maybe, in her deepest of souls, Brienne felt more akin to Lady Sansa than she wanted to admit. But only in the most general sense.

So when Brienne walked into her office, she expected to have peace for at least a week before the crew of _Twelve Days of Yule_ descended upon Winterfell and Wintertown with the first true snowfall of the season — time she would absolutely not spend preparing to steel herself against Jaime Lannister.

It was rather fortunate she _did not_ need time to prepare herself for the appearance of Jaime Lannister, as he stood before her with a grin that made her _know_ how immensely he was enjoying the fact that he had caught her off guard.

Brienne had never yielded to Jaime Lannister, and she certainly wouldn’t start now; she adopted a defensive stance to wait him out. While the motive for her silence was rather transparent, her visitor either was in an obliging mood — or, as Brienne suspected, — unable to hold his tongue.

“Why, Brienne, you don’t look happy to see me!” he cried. “The scowl on your face alone is enough to give me a complex.”

“I doubt your ego has ever taken a hit, especially from me.”

“Do Lord and Lady Stark know they’ve hired such an inhospitable wench to represent their _esteemed and noble_ home?”

“Do you intend to meet any standards of professionalism whatsoever?”

“Do you want to have breakfast?”

“What?”

“Don’t be so cruel as to let a man starve.”

After a few token protests that felt feeble to even her ears, Brienne found herself making her excuses to Podrick, leaving Winterfell’s grounds with Jaime, strolling through Wintertown and laughing with Jaime, and sitting at a quaint café she had always meant to visit but never had time to ... with Jaime.

The sudden realization that Jaime had so easily broken through the barriers she had carefully erected earlier in the year, swallowed up her ability to participate in what had previously been easy conversation. She fell silent, but Jaime filled in what would have been a painful silence with light chatter about his family.

“— And Cersei is dating some mysterious person. She’s deigned to give up the honor of being Lady of Casterly Rock for the holidays to run away to Dorne, so she must truly be in love. Or whatever resembles love for Cersei. Perhaps I need to find a similar means of escaping the family holiday,” he said with a teasing tone.

“Please tell me you aren’t using a reality show to find a date for the holidays.”

He turned slightly red. For a moment, she wondered if the Starks had misunderstood and Jaime _would_ be the star of the show; he certainly was handsome enough to be featured in the promotional posters.

“Uh, I — no. Amerei asked me to handle the production at Winterfell. And because, apparently, this is a family matter, it was agreed that once filming wraps here, I’m free to enjoy my holiday.”

“I’m sorry? Lady Stark implied you would be filming through the holidays, that I would be needed to —”

“I truly wish the Starks would stop insisting they deal directly with productions, particularly when, forgive me, I believe it’s part of your duties. You would never, for instance, negligently mix-up the full production schedule and the _Winterfell_ production schedule —”

“Jaime.”

“— Are you telling me that you expected to spend your holiday baby-sitting that decrepit old castle?”

Brienne’s silence seemed to be all the confirmation he needed. Lady Stark had long wanted to vet the production units that passed through Winterfell’s gates before leaving the particulars to Brienne. While Brienne was the epitome of professionalism and, thus, would never admit her frustration with the insufficiencies of this organizational nightmare to anyone, much less a colleague, the flaws in this method tended to hinder Brienne’s ability to do her job. Dates had been mixed up, details of the shoot had gone unrecorded, and once — just once — a location manager had not been told of Brienne’s existence, which led him to greet her in less than polite terms.

That same man now sat across from her, colored by defeat.

“Brienne. I would _never_ set a production schedule that would so heartlessly inconvenience you —”

“You sounded quite like you would be happy to be liberated from your own family holiday just a moment ago, why should you care about mine?”

“I — You wouldn’t wish a Lannister holiday on your worst enemy. Perhaps _you_ should liberate me.”

The insinuation gave Brienne pause, although she wasn’t foolish enough to read more into than Jaime’s distance from his family. Beyond the occasional aborted complaints about the rest of his kin in their conversations, Brienne had noticed he refused to use his courtesy title and avoided anything to do with Casterly Rock. The Lannisters on the whole had never outgrown their ancient obsessions with legacy and backdoor political maneuvers. The current Lord Lannister proudly held his seat in the House of Lords and was known for his aggressively conservative — in other words, cutthroat and austere — policies. Lady Cersei Lannister was his eldest child (but could only inherit the title and land if the male heir gave up his claims) and rumor had it that she and her brother Tyrion feuded over their desire to replace their father, particularly when it was expected Jaime would one day renounce the title he was to inherit.

But that wasn’t any of Brienne’s business, nor would Jaime appreciate her prying; it was best to change the topic entirely.

“I assume, then that the events of _Twelve Dates of Yule_ won’t officially align with the reality of the calendar, then?”

“That’s the beauty of shooting at Winterfell — we can capture the holiday magic, the snow, the frightful weather that leads to fireside chats … and be done before the Solstice.”

“So these contestants … they’ll know each other for less than a month?”

“Yep.”

“And the premise of this show is that they will be going on dates to choose someone to bring home to their families for the holidays?”

“I’m glad that not everything I communicated to the lady of the house was wasted breath.”

On principle, Brienne glared.

“And where did you find someone willing to be so foolish as to agree to speed-dating on national television?”

“Firstly, _I_ have very little part in this venture, it’s all Amerei. Secondly, I believe she found her three leads on one of those accursed dating apps — I hope you don’t use one, the messages you’d get wouldn’t be good for your naturally cheerful disposition. Thirdly, as much as it pains me to say it, this is not Amerei’s worst idea.”

Amerei Lannister’s very public career provided a very low bar for Jaime’s last defense, and her expression must have shown her distrust, for Jaime said, “I promise. This isn’t meant to be a tawdry show. Amerei wants to capture all the tropes of the romantic holiday romance and feelings of goodwill. There are more likely to be gratuitous shots of cocoa by the fire than anything else. I _promise._ ”

Brienne trusted him.

“But Jaime — this is so far out of your wheelhouse. Why did you agree to this?”

“To see you, of course.”

Reality forced Brienne to consider this to be a light-hearted, diplomatic answer. But hope — that great enemy of the sensible — burned in her chest, fanning its flames until warmth reached her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime does something that resembles asking Brienne on a date ...
> 
> As always, I would love to know what you think!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of your enthusiasm over this story! I hope you all continue to enjoy the low-level conflicts and delights of this rom-com.
> 
> As always, thanks to cytara for the very helpful suggestions she made on this chapter!
> 
> It looks like I'll be updating daily, at least for now!

While Jaime had received far too many lectures on his impulsivity over the years ( _What do you mean you’ve dropped out of the Citadel?; Jaime, please tell me that you didn’t publicly humiliate Lady Lysa by standing her up, ruining our relationship with Lord Tully.; I need to wire money to **where?** Jaime …_), he had never felt a sting from the consequences of his actions that disincentivized such behavior. Doing what felt right to him made no allowances of the schemes the rest of the family seemed so fond of; he might be too simple-minded to concoct elaborate deceptions, but he was _not too stupid_ to observe how unhappy the weight of their mental strategies made them.

Tyrion had cautioned Jaime that he needed a plan to win Brienne over; that Jaime should try to set up elaborate dates to mirror the experience of the show and spring them on Brienne before she could say no; that he should have bouquets of roses anonymously delivered with notes before revealing himself; that he should demonstrate their shared interests through carefully cultivated conversations; that he should perform a grand gesture that somehow involved a helicopter — Jaime had admittedly missed most of that idea, as he had been distracted by thinking about what Brienne’s hair might look like windswept, as she always kept it tightly bound in either a bun or limp braid.

Jaime had considered some of Tyrion’s tactics — Brienne deserved it all — but he was unsure if she would enjoy any of the spectacle attached to many of his brother’s ideas, and he _knew_ she was straight-forward and appreciated the same trait in others, so no hint of what he was doing instead seemed like a terrible idea.

When he had first succeeded at convincing her to _finally_ join him for breakfast, he felt a sense of triumph that carried him to declare his true motives for taking the job. Which obviously made it clear to Brienne that he was pursuing her with a seriousness likely unrivaled by any previous suitors (given the stories he had heard about Brienne’s social life, in fact, he was sure this was the case). 

And as Brienne had not run away screaming but seemed bashfully pleased by his admittance, Jaime felt that he could, perhaps, borrow a few ideas from _Twelve Dates of Yule._ Because Brienne would _know_ he was interested in her, not simply bored — he took a ridiculous job to see her! — and know she could trust him.

(It had taken Jaime too long when they had first met to realize she bristled at his attentions not because _she_ was unpleasant but because something in her past — and fine, he had been rather rude to her upon their introduction — had made her mistrustful of people attempting to get to know her.)

They had already spent a week together, as Jaime walked her through what locations production would like to use, argued with her for access to some of the more sprawling interior rooms, and organized the arrival of the crew and cast. Tours of Winterfell had shut down in advance of filming, so Jaime was able to wheedle Brienne into accompanying him on errands that didn’t, strictly speaking, fall under her purview.

“Just tell your employers you were keeping an eye on me,” he said, as she hesitated over her paperwork.

The rest of the small crew arrived only a day before the cast, all being directed with great gusto by Amerei.

“Jaime! I am _thrilled_ you were able to arrange everything so quickly — how do you think the Starks would take us temporarily installing a hot tub?”

Jaime did not need to think to know that if he allowed that, he should expect to be drowned in said hot tub posthaste.

So he suddenly found himself trying to convince Amerei that Winterfell’s underground hot springs would be romantic and give the show a signature character, and then having to turn around and convince Brienne that the crew would not alter them. Brienne’s handwringing was superfluous in Jaime’s mind, as the underground springs had been ignored until the spa craze had overtaken Westeros and the Starks thought they might capitalize with offering the use of the long-abandoned pools. Given how they had mishandled such an attempt that had led to Winterfell no longer offering the public access, as the costs of running a full-service spa outweighed the business (if it could be called that) they managed to bring in, Jaime thought it was rather lucky _Darkwood Abbey_ had popularized the old castle. The Starks had little business acumen and, if his few meetings with the future Lord of Winterfell gave an accurate impression of young Robb, Jaime thought they would need a steady string of film hits to match the expenditures needed to maintain the old castle. Not that he cared about such things himself.

Brienne was truly wasted in the dreary North.

<

“Brienne, I promise that all I want is to show-off one of Winterfell’s lesser known features. The show might even regenerate interest in the hot springs,” he said. Then an idea sprung into his mind. “We could even go through a trial run of everything the show would plan to do, so you could see how little impact we’ll have.”

And that was how, after two hours of convincing and coaxing, he was able to secure a date — was it really a date if it was under the pretext of being work-adjacent and the word wasn’t specifically used? —with Brienne in one of the most interesting historical features of Winterfell.

The renovations made by the modern Starks had ensured that the pools had all the modern features necessary to safely enjoy them as modern hot tubs, while maintaining the naturally teal water and more decorative rock formations. Citing the potential difficulty of shooting in such a unique space, Jaime convinced the crew to set up a temporary bar and decorate the area in time for his date. One lone table was saved from the Starks’ storage and prepared to host an intimate dinner … and while Brienne didn’t necessarily know she had signed up for dinner with him, he couldn’t very well in good conscience convince her to linger at the hot springs if he was keeping her from a meal. Logic demanded they eat together — including candles just ensured the mood was properly set.

At the appointed hour, he met Brienne at her office with his carefully cultivated picnic basket and offered her his arm.

To his surprise, Brienne did not protest but did refuse to meet his eye as he escorted her to the hot springs entrance — in fact, she pointedly ignored the existence of his basket, which was somewhat insulting as he had personally decorated it. 

They parted at the changing rooms that had been added in the renovation; to his shock, Jaime could not complain about the facilities, even the towels and Winterfell-branded robes seemed freshly laundered. (He was happy to parade around his swim trunks; he was _not_ going to wear anything that said ‘Winterfell’ or ‘Stark’ on it.)

While Brienne took slightly longer to change than he expected, Jaime saw it as luck — lighting candles took far longer than he expected and setting up an aesthetically pleasing romantic dinner was impossible; personally, he blamed the table. How was it possible the Starks had managed to buy furniture that looked stern?

When Brienne finally emerged, clutching one of those ridiculous robes to her body, it took Jaime a moment to tear his gaze away from her bare legs and notice her hesitance, triggering his own set of nerves — Was she just humoring him? Did he misuse his position and pressure her to come tonight? Did he choose the wrong wine vintage? Did she disapprove of alcohol? Had he asked about her allergies … And, then, suddenly a surprise overtook her face as she caught the hastily decorated dining area.

“Is this — Did you do this for me?” she asked, in an uncharacteristically small voice.

“Yes!”

“I’ve never … I mean, thank you. It’s lovely.”

Jaime could not say much for her taste, but as that flaw was in his favor, he instead turned and offered her a plate and drink. He forgot to offer to pull out her chair. Next time, he would.

If there was a next time. Perhaps she hadn’t understood his interest in her as well as he had thought? Despite how direct he had been, oh the inhumanity! 

The conversation was halting at first, a retreat to their initial acquaintance. In an attempt to revive the easy banter they had developed after his return to Winterfell, he asked to hear more about the castle history. Brienne gratefully seized upon the topic and began to explain to him the star-crossed love of a Stark and a Lannister.

“I never knew! I’d love to create a display for _that_ at Casterly Rock. I cannot wait to tell father!”

“I have never understood your insistence on irritating your father. For that matter, I have never understood the irrational nonsense between the Starks and the Lannisters.”

“Are you coming close to criticizing your employer?”

Brienne only dignified _that_ with a frown.

“Brienne, I hold no ill will toward the Starks. I merely irritate everyone in my presence — occasionally for my own enjoyment.”

“Do you take nothing seriously?”

Jaime stopped himself for falling into cliches and answering — _you_ — and instead attempted honesty, “For my father, everything was very serious. His expectations made me unhappy, made my siblings who care far more than I do about the family legacy unhappy. I cannot help but laugh at the silly social politics of that world … not because they don’t affect me but because they very much could.”

Brienne considered him thoughtfully — he knew he had been both too muddled and too honest all at once.

Finally, she replied, “I wish I could laugh away all the things that bothered me.”

“I’m glad you cannot, as I’m sure I’d be instantly banished from your presence.”

She laughed at that and, then, their conversation carried them through dinner, through drinks and into the pool. Jaime offered to clear the table if Brienne wanted to get into the pool and made a point of turning his back to allow her to shed her robe without embarrassment; if he were not pettily ignoring Tyrion’s messages, he would have texted his brother ‘ _see i can occasionally read the room_.’ (But he was, and he wouldn’t talk about Brienne’s shyness because he suspected he would embarrass her, anyway, and Tyrion would laugh at him.)

The drawback to his attempt at gallantry, however, was he could only see hints of Brienne’s blue swimsuit in the water, which made it slightly difficult to focus on getting into the pool himself.

Once they were both sitting in the pool, basking in the warm water, he learned Brienne had three siblings — an older brother and two younger twin sisters. He was horrified to discover that her mother had also died when she was a teenager, but unlike the (almost) perennial bachelor Tywin Lannister, Selwyn Tarth had coped with his wife’s death by introducing his children to a revolving door of women, each more unpleasant than the last.

After Brienne had finished telling him the story of how her older brother had pranked one of her father’s particularly nasty girlfriends with a dead snake in revenge for the cruel words she had thrown at Brienne, Jaime realized that past comments about her unique appearance were partially why Brienne was so shy … and that he should be wary of Galladon Tarth if he were to ever accidentally harm Brienne.

Honesty had, surprisingly, worked for Jaime so far, and Brienne deserved to hear something nice. He turned in the water to ensure she had to look him directly in the eyes, so she would know he meant it.

“Brienne, I really like you,” he said, then instantly regretted how bland it sounded. “I’ve been poorly flirting with you since you lectured me about preserving the dignity of Winterfell this spring. You’re the most compelling story-teller I’ve ever met ... history comes alive when you speak — I think you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and they put even these waters to shame — And you’re one of the most kind and patient people I’ve ever met, especially since you can put you with me —”

Realizing that his word vomit might sound a _bit_ too strong and lacked eloquence, he cut himself, searched her expression for a clue as to her feelings and, upon finding it unreadable, asked in a tone even he heard as desperate, “Do I have any chance at all?”

Brienne dropped his gaze and looked down at her clasped hands. Her expression was unreadable. After a moment, she whispered, “I like you too, Jaime.”

He hoped he didn’t blind her with the ferocity of his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Brienne and Jaime both understand they're going on a date. 
> 
> Thanks as always for all your responses to this story! I would love to know what you think so far!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading everyone! I hope you continue the holiday antics!
> 
> As always, thanks to cytara for beta-reading this story! I would not have written it without her enabling!

After the calm of pre-production, the beginning of filming had begun as rapidly as the first snow of the season, so Brienne only saw Jaime in his official capacity for the next few days after their weekday _date._ If something could be declared a date in hindsight. She tried to push down her nerves, but the lingering feeling that it was only the magic of the atmosphere that had made Jaime declare what he had remained. That had made _her_ feel as if she could reciprocate without negative consequence.

But when she would run into him as they both performed their separate duties, he would smile so sweetly at her she had to believe it was real.

These were the moments Brienne held onto when she felt insecure, particularly when she heard one of the cast members hope that Jaime was the man she would attempt to romance.

Brienne had always regarded reality television as simultaneously mindless and mean-spirited. But she had met the three leads of the show — Lady Margaery Tyrell (who was in all likelihood causing the entirety of the Tyrell family to have palpitations over this decision), Missandei Naath, and Addam Marbrand — and they all appeared to be kind, genial people. Missandei even appeared to be slightly reserved for what Brienne would assume this type of show would be — perhaps some of her pre-formed judgments had been wrong.

Jaime later explained, “Amerei said she wanted nice people over everything else. Although I think she cast Margaery for the drama of it. Lady Olenna will _not_ be pleased.”

Brienne did not possess the intimate knowledge of the great families of Westeros in the way Jaime did — and, frankly, she was glad for her ignorance most of the time — but she suspected that no grandmother wished to see her granddaughter flirt with multiple people at once, eliminating and welcoming more candidates in equal turns, and then finally choosing a date to bring home. She could not imagine coping with the attention the social media buzz along would bring, but Lady Margaery seemed more than capable of dealing with any untoward behavior, as she had quickly sent home the blonde dick who had been far too pushy and was currently enjoying winter sports with her second date, a woman Brienne had not yet met.

Not that Brienne expected she would see enough of the cast to become acquainted with them all; she would not be spending so much time with the crew if the location manager had been anyone but Jaime.

Jaime caught up with her during a pause in filming, as Brienne was preparing to leave Winterfell for lunch.

“Do you have plans tonight?” He asked. “I have the night off, and I thought we could go to dinner or we could watch a movie. Or whatever you like.”

She readily agreed, and they made plans to leave Winterfell together at the end of the day. The hours passed by much slower, somehow, and Brienne cursed how Jaime Lannister was capable of altering her perception of the world … and how soon he would be gone.

But she didn’t have to think about that in the immediate future; for once, she could enjoy what it was like to go on a date with someone who respected and _liked_ her. If she were honest, she shared Lady Sansa’s romantic inclinations; Brienne just tried to stop herself from believing they were possible for her, so she could not be inevitably disappointed.

When Jaime appeared at her office door to escort her into town, he once again offered her his arm — in front of Podrick — and led her into Wintertown. Jaime filled most of the conversation with idle complaints about working with his cousin ( _I don’t know how Lancel puts up with her to be honest … she smiles at me like I’m her prey_ ) and the awkwardness of discovering his best friend had been cast on the show ( _To be honest, I can’t find it in myself to be surprised that Addam would sign-up for something like this)._

Brienne had realized that Jaime was a master deflector and had managed to get her to divulge far more personal information than he had shared. As they made their way toward _The Direwolf_ for dinner and drinks, she seized her opportunity.

“So how long have you and Addam been friends, exactly?”

“Since childhood, actually. We met at one of those posh schools you so disapprove of —”

“I merely said that we need to invest in public education —”

“We met at one of those posh schools you disapprove of and had the stereotypical adolescent adventures you would disapprove of —”

“You make me sound extremely stern and boring.”

“Well, you do work for the Stark family.”

“As much as I disapprove of your childish enmity, I must admit I am relieved that was the direction you decided to take, as I was afraid you would quip some nonsense about opposites attracting.”

“So glad you’re willing to admit to being attracted to me, no matter how many lion enclosures I might have jumped into in my youth.”

“Jaime!”

“I told you that you would have disapproved.”

As the server escorted them to their table, Brienne wondered how much alcohol she would need to cope with young Jaime’s antics.

But soon, she was engaged as Jaime chattered about what were clearly the happier parts of his youth: how his exploits with Addam would always blow up in their faces, how he would take his younger brother Tyrion to museums in King’s Landing on summer weekends, how he and Cersei would occasionally switch places to see if anyone ever noticed, how before his mother died she patiently taught him to read, instigating his love of adventures in the books she chose.

Brienne remembered seeing the death of Lady Joanna Lannister on the news as a young girl; she had not fully understood what had happened then, but she remembered how painful it was for Westeros to lose such a beautiful and kind woman. The philanthropic work of Casterly Rock had since become proforma, a forgotten obligation rather than innovative vision. She wondered how Jaime had taken this change but knew that would be something he would have to broach with her. The celebrity of the Lannister family meant that she had been tangentially aware of the circumstances of Jaime’s life, no matter how good he was at disappearing from the media’s view, long before they had met at Winterfell. Knowing such intimate details of Jaime’s life, while trying to get to know who Jaime was outside the shadow of his family, made her second guess every response to his more personal stories — even if she was honored by his trust.

Jaime only acknowledged he had carried most of the conversation once the bill had arrived. Brienne waved off his apologies, pointing out that he had tricked her into dominating the conversation last time. Their light-hearted banter continued, until Jaime abruptly said,

“The cast is filming some sort of Christmas party inside the castle tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“I thought that we could enjoy the scenic landscape uninterrupted.”

“The last time you were here, you called the North a dismal —”

“Would you groan if I said my you’ve changed my perspective?”

“Groan, no. Believe you, no.”

“So is that a no?”

“Oh Jaime, I wouldn’t miss you _enjoying_ the snow for anything.”

“Let me walk you home, and I’ll pretend not to be offended that you plan to take joy in my suffering,” he said, holding out his hand.

She eagerly took it and, if her cheeks had heated at the physical contact, then at least she was warm all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime attempts to continue expressing his feelings.
> 
> Thanks so much for the feedback everyone! Would love to know what you thought of this chapter!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for returning, especially as the Christmas holidays get closer. 
> 
> As always, I appreciate cytara's very kind and thorough beta-read! 
> 
> The events of the reality series Twelve Dates of Yule are partially remixed from Twelve Dates of Christmas, partially original to fit the characters.

Natural athleticism had served Jaime well in his lifetime, particularly during the fencing championships that had allowed him to realize, if only momentarily, his boyhood dreams of adventure. Dreams he had since tried to recapture in various mildly embarrassing ways: creating a _Survivor_ audition tape before chucking it, creating an _Amazing Race_ audition tape and actually turning it in, sulking about never receiving a callback for the _Amazing Race_ , taking extended vacations across historical sites in Westeros _and_ Essos, and turning those extended vacations into a career that annoyed his father. But in all adventures, athletic and otherwise, he had reason to believe he would be unable to master winter sports.

To be fair, he had not spent an extended amount of time in the snow.

But even so, he had assumed his talent in similar, less glacial activities would translate to the ice and snow.

It did not.

Even hearing Brienne’s uninhibited laugh did not completely take away the sting of his embarrassment as he collapsed on the winter slopes, ski equipment askew. And, stupidly, impulsively, he was demanding that they return the next day so he could attempt snowboarding, claiming it would be easier to keep his balance.

It was not.

After Brienne had finished laughing at him again, she demonstrated the proper technique, but he could only make slow progress before the sun began to set. In fairness, the sun set at an unreasonable hour in the winter months, even before the solstice.

When they had lost the light, Brienne offered Jaime her hand and pulled him up — a feat that absolutely _did_ _not_ produce a bodily reaction — and said, “If you’re done torturing yourself, I could make us some cocoa.”

Jaime had received enough coy invitations in his lifetime to recognize that this was in no way one of them. If it had sounded even borderline flirtatious, Jaime would have erred on the side of caution, as toward the end of filming _Winds of Winter,_ he had been cornered by Lady Sansa Stark who informed him that Brienne _never_ went on dates. When Jaime had pointed out that divulging private information, no matter what the lady was intending, was not entirely honorable, _not in keeping with family tradition_ , Lady Sansa had snapped and coldly threatened him.

He knew what fate awaited him if he broke Brienne’s heart.

Or made her uncomfortable in any way.

Given the lengths he had gone to chase and impress her, however, he suspected Lady Sansa was more likely to laugh at his — only slight — desperation than banish him from Winterfell.

But he hardly cared; he quickly accepted Brienne’s offer, as he was eager to spend more time — any time, in all honesty — with her.

The walk to her cottage in Wintertown was truly something out of one of those heartwarming Yule films he watched when he was alone. The decorative lights sparkled on snow-dusted trees, jewel-colored ornaments populated the town square, and Winterfell itself was illuminated by the moon, overlooking it all. He once again reached out to take Brienne’s hand, and when upon bumping hers, she seized his in a comfortable hold, he felt like he had breached yet another of one of her many barriers.

Throughout the walk, he told her of the behind the scenes dramatics of production — technically, Amerei had never asked _him_ to sign a nondisclosure agreement; Jaime would never have run a production with so little oversight. Lady Margaery seemed to not be able to connect deeply with any of her dates; Addam had kissed _all_ of his dates _and_ Lady Margaery, causing many arguments and tears; Missandei seemed to have easily connected with her second suitor named Grey and had barely given any of the other men a chance.

“Don’t you think it’s a little shallow?” Brienne asked. “Can someone really find a way to meaningfully connect with someone in a few weeks? Enough to bring home to their family?”

“I’d bring you home to my family.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Well, I would if I had a normal family who wouldn’t frighten you away.”

“Jaime —” She paused. “We’ve only been on three dates. We haven’t even — _Wehaven’tevenkissed._ ”

“Five.”

“What?”

“We’ve been on five dates. We had breakfast, we had dinner and drinks in the hot springs, we had dinner at _The Direwolf_ , and the past two days we’ve spent all of our time in the snow. We also spent the first week of our reunion practically chained together, but that was under the pretext of work obligations, so I won’t count that.”

“I don’t think it’s a date if the other person doesn’t realize you’re dating. Please tell me you’re not going to insist on this, it’s practically a romantic novel cliché.”

“You read romance novels?’

“That’s not the point.”

Jaime refused to concede this point, and their argument carried them all the way to Brienne’s home.

The cottage Brienne rented was only a twenty-minute walk to her office, and frankly, it looked like it had been stolen from an adorable holiday postcard. The living area of her home was cramped, with no distinguishable separation between the kitchen and the living room, but once Brienne started a fire and made the cocoa, it was cozy enough.

Jaime assumed that even _Twelve Dates of Yule_ would be unable to produce a more stereotypical image, two love interests sipping cocoa in front of a crackling fireplace, stealing shy glances.

Because, at times, Brienne did make Jaime feel shy. Well, at least comparatively to his usual state.

She was so honest and kind and muscular and … already felt more like home than anyone named Lannister.

Including Cersei. Although, to be fair, Cersei was not one for sentimentality, so she would more likely be offended if Jaime told her she felt like home than if he saved all of his feelings for someone else.

They had slipped in peaceful silence, sipping their chocolate when Brienne broke the silence to ask, “D-did you mean what you said? About taking me home?”

“Don’t tell me you’re only interested in me to score an invitation to Casterly Rock.”

He was growing to love her unimpressed glare.

“ _Of course_. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Do you think that maybe you should have, at least once? Like the time you told me and, I quote ‘your idealism would prevent you from ever working in show business?’”

“Absolutely not. Now you know I’ll always be honest. And don’t pretend like you’ve ever pulled any punches. I believe you told me I was unworthy to tell the history of Winterfell —”

“I apologized!”

“My point is that we’ve always been honest with each other, good and bad. So it shouldn’t be a surprise I can feel _sure_ about you. I know you. And I think you know me.”

“I do know you.”

He took her hand in his.

“Earlier this evening, you brought to my attention that there is something we should remedy, if you want. Do you want to kiss me? Because I really want to kiss you.”

Brienne shyly nodded. That was all the invitation he needed.

His lips met hers. He tried to simultaneously pour his feelings into the kiss and be gentle — to make it perfect. She was timid at first, but then reciprocated, giving him the courage to bring his hand to her cheek. With no little regret, he finally pulled away but was rewarded for his sacrifice with Brienne’s smile.

He couldn’t resist pulling her closer, and she rested her head against his shoulder. The warmth of the fire, coupled with the contentment of being finally, finally close to Brienne, carried Jaime into dreams of a holiday that didn’t feel quite so lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime and Brienne do more cute things. Which is honestly my goal in every chapter if we're being real.
> 
> I would love to know your thoughts! Thanks again for reading!!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, to all of you who celebrate! 
> 
> Thanks to cytara for beta-reading, especially during such a busy time!

When Brienne woke to the sunlight, the first sensation she felt was a sharp pain in her neck, the second was being pressed against a firm body of warmth.

_Jaime_.

They had apparently fallen asleep by the fire, which had led to the very _intimate_ situation in which she now found herself. But, strangely, while Jaime held her in an embrace that could only be described as suggestive, she did not feel any painful awkwardness or a desire to flee. Perhaps a desire to readjust their position to relieve her neck, but even that was outweighed by her desire to keep their limbs entangled.

So she remained still to savor such a position, hoping that Jaime would feel the same when he woke. Reason told her that he _would_ , in fact, would be more exuberant than her, given how confidently and quickly he proclaimed his feelings. While Brienne had never put any stock into the romantic comedy tropes that Amerei Lannister was counting on for her show to be a success — love at first sight being the most painful to believe in, for who could ever fall in love with only her appearance — she was willing to admit Jaime was starting to make her believe that romance was possible for _her._

She was so lost in her thoughts about reason and hope and possibility that she did not at first notice when Jaime began to stir, giving him the opportunity to reposition them so that he could look into her eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, and then he laughed. “I don’t know why I was whispering.”

“I didn’t know you could whisper, in truth.”

“Oh no — are you one of those people capable of firing on all cylinders in the morning. I’m going to have to get used to that.”

Brienne flushed with pleasure at the implication, causing Jaime to misread her face and panic.

“What I mean is that … only if you —”

“I’d like that?”

“You would?”

“Yes.”

They stared and grinned at each other in a perfectly foolish manner for too long, before Jaime leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It took even more willpower than yesterday to break their contact; however, her duties at Winterfell called, and she suspected Jaime was not taking his job on _Twelve Dates of Yule_ as seriously as he should, even if it was only a reality show that would just get buried on a streaming service.

Frankly, the fact that Amerei was running the show was all the more reason for Jaime to spend the proper amount of time on set.

When Brienne vocalized this, however, he said, “But part of my job is to work with the public! All the time we spend together —”

She decided to head off his arguments on this front permanently. “Are you saying I’m only a job to you?”

He choked.

“You know I’m not!”

“Then don’t try to use me as an excuse to shirk your workload.”

“But it’s so off-putting to see your best friend mishandle three relationships at once in front of a camera.”

She was admittedly happy that Jaime had given no indication of regret, wanted to continue spending all of their time together, but she absolutely would not stand for slothfulness. Particularly when the fate of Winterfell’s renovations rested somewhat with him.

(Not that Brienne could judge him _that_ harshly, as they both had yet to leave the couch.) 

“What if you actually do your job and then … I could make it up to you?”

Jaime’s mood immediately shifted from sulky to intrigued.

“And how would you do that?” he asked in a voice that absolutely had no effect upon her whatsoever.

“I, uh, could cook us dinner here? Unless that’s too simp—”

He did not give her time to equivocate or rescind the invitation, however, as he enthusiastically kissed his consent; it was all she could do to keep up. When they finally extricated themselves from one another, there was no time to do anything but grab a to-go cup of coffee and rush to Winterfell.

Jaime insisted upon dropping her off at her office with a kiss — in front of Podrick! — before he reluctantly shuffled his way out the door. Brienne would never admit this to Jaime, but she could have been more present during filming; she just wanted to avoid Lady Margaery at all costs. 

Since making her acquaintance, Lady Margaery had begun to ask sweetly worded, though pointed, questions that made Brienne feel exposed at every turn. After their last conversation, Brienne suspected Lady Margaery knew, despite Brienne not saying a word, that Jaime and Brienne were seeing one another; perhaps Lady Margaery knew more about their feelings for each other than they did. In fact, Lady Margaery seemed rather well-informed about _all_ of the comings and goings of the North. 

For her part, Lady Margaery seemed far more interested in Brienne’s love life than in her own prospects at Winterfell.

(It was clear that the only thing that had stopped Lady Margaery from sending all of her current dates home had been the fact that the show didn’t work like that. From what little Brienne had seen, it appeared that the elimination process worked similarly to _The Bachelor,_ although contestants were given presents instead of roses.)

After she had both shaken Jaime and _Twelve Dates of Yule_ from her mind, Brienne was able to have an extremely productive day, using the quiet of the holiday season to reconfigure Winterfell’s ticketing system for the public tours. She suspected that between _Winds of Winter_ and _Twelve Dates of Yule_ , Winterfell’s popularity would grow, capturing the interest of new demographics. If audiences liked _Twelve Dates of Yule_ , she thought that they would be interested in the romantic history of the castle and wondered if she could design a themed tour … but she suspected Lord Stark would not appreciate that type of creativity, even if Lady Sansa would.

At times, her job felt quite limiting, although she knew she should be grateful, given the current market. And she likely would not have met Jaime if it wasn’t for Winterfell bringing them together. Even so, the North was quite lonely — all of her friends and family remained in the Stormlands, Podrick was more of an admirer than a friend, and while the Stark children were kind to her, there was a certain distance between employer and employee that was half maintained out of class tradition and half out of propriety. (Although Brienne had a feeling that Lady Sansa knew more about her personal life than she’d prefer, although the lady only dropped hints.)

When the light of the day had begun to fade, Jaime once again reappeared at her office door with an eager smile on his face.

How strange it was how seeing someone could so easily become the highlight of your day!

They had chatted briefly about their days down to the village.

(Brienne was surprised Jaime seemed to actually listen to rant about how she had finally convinced Lord Stark to allow online ticket reservations with interest; Jaime reported that Amerei claimed she had discovered how to give Lady Margaery’s storyline a big twist … Brienne did not approve of the dramatics on reality television, but she could see how it would be bad for ratings if one of the leads seemed disinterested in, well, _everyone_ after initial meetings and saved most of her charm for her off-camera acquaintances.).

And then, instead of complaining about Addam’s latest antics, or theorizing that Missandei and Grey would make it ( _did Jaime’s interest in this show mean he … watched reality television regularly?_ ), he abruptly asked, “Tonight when you said dinner … did you mean, _dinner_?”

“I meant I could cook you dinner with … the groceries I need to buy, actually.”

“And after dinner?”

Flirtation made Brienne nervous, she never knew exactly how to skirt the line between suggestive and presumptuous. She knew any attempts she consciously made would be clumsy, so she wished he would be direct.

In the spirit of honesty, Brienne told him so. She was no hypocrite, even if he realized she was boring and nothing like those girls currently inhabiting Winterfell like they were princesses of old.

(Despite Brienne’s dubiousness toward Lady Margaery and Missandei’s decision to go on a reality show, she _did_ like them, she sometimes envied how easily their love interests wanted to get to know them. Or how easily Lady Margaery in particular could charm someone, if she gave a modicum of effort.)

Jaime, to his credit, bit back his laughter – and what she heard sounded more amused than unkind.

“Alright, I didn’t want to pressure you, and I certainly didn’t mean to fall asleep last night, but I enjoyed it. And I would like to wake up with you again on purpose, if that were something you were comfortable with … we wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to do. Are you amenable to that at all?”

Brienne took a moment to consider — she desperately wanted to recapture the warmth she felt from this morning, although she hesitated to let Jaime into her private space. But as self-preservation seemed to never win out when Jaime was involved, she agreed to buy groceries while he packed a bag.

Her past relationships — if they could be called that as they had never gone beyond the first date — left her with little comparative experience, but this _thing_ with Jaime felt right. They laughed through cooking (mostly at Jaime’s attempts to help), never ran out of conversation over dinner, kissed and cuddled by the fire, and once they were tucked in the blankets and he had pulled her close to him, she felt a sense of peace far unlike anything else she had ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime and Brienne have a talk about their relationship (but in a fluffy way).
> 
> Thanks so much for all of your support, especially those of you who have regularly commented. I hope this story has brought you a piece of the joy your comments have brought me. As always, I would love to hear what you think.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all of you continue to have a wonderful holiday, if you're celebrating! And thanks so much for taking the time to read this story! 
> 
> Thanks to cytara for beta-reading!

If one thing could be said in favor of the North — besides it being Brienne’s current residence — it was the seclusion it provided from all of the prying eyes of King’s Landing, Lannisport, and Casterly Rock.

Since his arrival at Winterfell, Jaime had ignored messages or calls from anyone named or related to a Lannister, with the exception of Amerei. To Amerei’s credit, she had promised — unprompted — to not say a word about his relationship with Brienne to his father or, worse, Aunt Genna.

Amerei was no longer his least favorite cousin.

When he had asked why, Amerei had laughed and said,“They all treat me like the proverbial skeleton in the closet; I’ll enjoy knowing far more about the fate of the Lannister dynasty, the thing they all care about, they any of _them_ ,” she had taken a pause, and then, with true emotion added, “Besides, I once heard you smack Daven for calling me … Gatehouse … that name — even Lancel has had a difficult time standing up for me. So thank you.”

Amerei had been dubbed ‘Gatehouse Ami’ by one of Westeros’s crueler tabloids, after _The Bachelor_ had given her an uncomplimentary edit. Jaime had never used it, if for no other reason than he had seen how the Westerosi media’s cruelty had affected his mother and, much later, sister. And he certainly wouldn’t stand by and let Daven (or anyone else) give credence to such sexist drivel.

But Jaime did not know how to express his feelings to Amerei, so he grunted an attempt at support and excused himself for lunch with Brienne in her office.

When they had been left to their salads by Podrick, Jaime said, “I missed you.”

“You left me at this office literally three hours ago.”

“Three-and-a-half.”

But she was fighting a smile, so Jaime saw that she was only being contrarian on purpose.

“This is our seventh official date, you know.”

“Jaime, you cannot be serious. We’re having lunch in my office.”

“But when you accepted my offer, I said, ‘it’s a date,’ and you didn’t protest, so it counts. Besides, I’m trying to prove to you we can enjoy mundane things together, so you don’t think this is about getting caught up in the magic of the holidays.”

“Why do you think I’m worried about that?”

Now that she had asked about it, he felt particularly embarrassed about it.

“Because _every-couple-ontheshow-iswonderingif-theyworkinreallife_ ,” he muttered speedily.

Fortunately, Brienne had heard enough to not force him to repeat it, but her response did not make him feel much better: “You know that, despite the name of genre, reality television doesn’t have much bearing on _reality_?”

“I’ve actually come to appreciate Amerei’s take on the —”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant that our relationship is not being determined by the show. I liked you long before I —”

“What do you mean you liked me _long before_?”

Brienne took a breath. “I’ve liked you at least since you yelled at Mormont to change the crypt scene.”

Jaime wisely withheld joking about how she just liked to be proven right. Instead he confessed, “I’ve liked you since you told me I was a hack and had unjustly sidelined the storyline of the Tarths in the franchise.”

“We barely — you did no — I’m still right!”

“I hope that you would at least withhold your final judgment until you see _Winds of Winter_ and _Dream of Spring_.”

“I did watch the copy you sent me. I appreciated it.”

“Would you like to appreciate it with me on the big screen? Say, a few days after production wraps up here?”

“Are you asking me to go to a _movie premiere_ with you? The one in King’s Landing?”

“Well, yes. But before you reject me out of hand from some fear of the media, I don’t walk the carpet. We can just go inside the theater with the crew and see the film from a semi-decent seat. There’s a private party after, but we don’t have to go … or stay longer than you want.”

Brienne took a bite of her salad and chewed slowly, which Jaime took as a sign she was thinking.

“If I agree to go … how are you going to introduce me?”

Jaime was either an idiot (likely) or Brienne was purposefully dense (also likely).

“Unless you have a problem with it, I would like to say you’re my girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“Are you surprised?”

From the look on Brienne’s face, she indeed was. Jaime had thought that since she had enjoyed having him stay over — invited him to do it again — that she had let go of the insecurities about their relationship. Not being one for relationships himself, he did not register his panic had resulted in babbling until well into his ridiculous monologue:

“— Is it at least a good surprise like opening a gift for Yule? Not that I think I’m a gift to women, although certain women have certainly thought so. — That was not — I’ve never had a serious relationship ... between my father and my sister … not that I have a weird relationship with my sister. Well, no stranger than any other relationship in my family. — I just think we, you and I, could work, if we wanted.”

Throughout this frankly embarrassing display, Jaime could see Brienne’s face shift from horror to amusement to confusion to disbelief to happiness.

Perhaps like everything to do with Brienne, he muddled through his awkwardness until something seemed to click. She put her hand on his, which he had failed to notice was nervously bouncing on her desk.

“I’d like to be your girlfriend, Jaime,” she finally said.

Elation soared through him — he was the one who had been given the gift.

“Do you have some sort of professional code of conduct that would stop me from kissing you in your office?”

She grinned. “Would that stop you?”

“If you were serious.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have no such rules when I’m on my break. _Does that surprise you?_ ”

Jaime discovered the only thing that could entice him away from flirtily arguing with Brienne was kissing Brienne.

It was a trade he was quite happy to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, we get a true peak into the filming of Twelve Dates of Yule ...
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for your kind words about a very indulgent and festive story! I hope you continue to enjoy and, as always, I'd love to hear your theories and thoughts! 
> 
> Happy holidays! <3


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! I felt a bit under the weather this weekend, and I fell behind on editing.
> 
> I now return you to our regular programming, with thanks again to cytara for beta-reading.

When Brienne was feeling especially lonely, she indulged in watching far too many bad streaming-service holiday movies. She had seen enough fictional depictions of romance to form some ideas of what it might be like if it happened to _her;_ albeit, her mind toned down the grand gestures and melodrama of such films. On many occasions, Lady Sansa had despaired that Brienne did not seem interested in romance, as it wasn’t as if Brienne hadn’t had opportunities to pursue relationships, even in the North. But she had known since her senior year of college, when she sat across from her very mediocre date, that she didn’t want to settle for a shadow of love. Hyle Hunt was not cruel, he had even expressed interest in her career, but the future he offered felt hollow. She would never voice it aloud — knew how naïve and snobby it sounded, particularly from a woman as ugly as her — but she had wanted to hold out for someone who made her feel … like Jaime made her feel. 

Perhaps too often, Brienne pretended at not caring for romance as a means to shield herself from the judgment of others, but being with Jaime for even a short time made her be both glad she had been prickly enough over the years that she had been able to meet Jaime and a little wistful: how might her life be different — in all aspects — if she had been more open? She vowed that she would let down some of her walls, not let her self-doubt creep in and stop her from enjoying things and pursuing relationships. Such a resolution already paid dividends when it came to her relationship with Jaime.

The only downside to being Jaime’s _girlfriend_ was that he had expensive taste in coffee and insisted she join him for that coffee in the mornings when they didn’t linger in bed. To Jaime’s credit, despite his status as the heir to one of the largest family fortunes in Westeros (the largest one, if the rumors were true), he did realize not everyone had the same financial resources as himself. So he began paying for their frequent trips to the cafe, which was annoying in its own way for a woman used to her own independence, but Brienne swallowed her protests when she realized how happy it made Jaime to give her things.

And it was only coffee. It wasn’t like he had bought her expensive jewelry.

Not that she was going to put _that_ idea in his head.

Jaime was entirely too likely to do something like that. Perhaps they should have a discussion on Yule presents, given they had just started dating, no matter how confident in their relationship he was.

Or how confident she wanted to be. She wondered if, even if they were together twenty years from now, she would believe it was a dream. But even in the short term, she didn’t see how it would work as smoothly as he believed — she was tied to Winterfell, he was constantly on the move with his productions. And one day, if he didn’t disinherit himself, he’d be the lord of Casterly Rock. No matter what her own family history, she was in no position to be a lady. 

(Despite promises one made for self-improvement, it appeared doubt was always at the edge of the mind, ready to creep in at the smallest opening.)

Not that she could leave Jaime now that she had found him, had experienced those little moments romantic fiction attempted to capture; Brienne would never let him go. But she feared he just might — she would never verbalize this fear to Jaime, as it would only hurt him, so she pushed it down and continued enjoying her life in the moment.

Which involved a ridiculous reality television show more than she wanted.

“I know you’ve been avoiding filming, lately,” Jaime said, as they finished their entirely too expensive coffee, “But if you’re interested at all in what twist Amerei has up her sleeve, you should hang out with me at the set today.”

“Are you trying to make me care about … reality television?”

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to spend the day with me?”

More time with Jaime and curiosity overcame the voice in her head that told her she was above caring about such things and that she should maintain professionalism. That voice sounded a little like Lady Stark, and while Brienne knew that her employer had absolutely no say in who she was dating, she worried a little bit about the lady’s reaction if, or rather when, she found out. 

A promise to embrace life had been made, however, and Brienne always kept her promises.

So she followed Jaime to Winterfell’s ballroom — it was utterly ridiculous to think that a family lived in a castle with a dedicated ballroom — that had been decorated with far too much tinsel and far too much glitter (“ _I hope you have a cleanup crew able to perform miracles to ensure you put it back the way you found it_ ,” she whispered to Jaime. She chose to ignore his quips about improving upon the dreariness.). The cast had gathered in clothes just as sparkly as the décor to participate in some … sexy party game.

Brienne had learned from Jaime that filming for reality television took longer than you’d expect — and that dating shows were not above pumping their cast with alcohol. Still, it was utterly strange to see _so many_ bottles of champagne being consumed at once. (“ _This is nothing compared to Lannister brunch with my siblings,_ ” Jaime whispered. Brienne wondered if she should worry about the Lannisters or if Jaime was simply being dramatic.)

The game fizzled out fairly quickly, and given how very few provocative instances had occurred, production didn’t push the cast to continue. Brienne wondered if that was normal.

Grey and Missandei seemed wrapped up in one another — Missandei’s other two dates (Theon? Daario?) stood abandoned in a corner. Addam appeared to poorly juggling the attentions of his three dates — it looked like he had done something to severely piss-off Tyene, and was unable to redirect Pia’s attention from Jaime standing off camera, and — in fighting for Pia’s attention — had made Ros crumple. ( _“He’s not a bad guy, really. He just … he met a woman a long time ago who never noticed him the way he wanted. And he’s clearly not over her. I don’t know why Amerei let him on this show_ ,” Jaime whispered. Brienne understood Jaime loved his friend, but the defense of Addam’s behavior made her wonder at what, exactly, his conceptions of romance were.)

Lady Margaery was standing at a candle-lit table, sulking, ignoring her three dates, who Brienne had not gotten the chance to know; when it came to Lady Margaery’s dates, the castle was basically a revolving door; one woman had left in tears over not being given a chance.

(To be honest, Brienne couldn’t blame Lady Margaery. While Brienne was sure that some of them were very nice people, but the first guy she had met had been … well, the absolute worst. Lady Margaery’s unwillingness to force feelings, in fact, was admirable, and Brienne hoped that post-production wouldn’t use editing to make their star appear in any sort of negative light.)

Suddenly, members of the crew whispering and moving to capture the entrance to the ballroom moments before the doors were thrown open to reveal —

“ _Lady Sansa_?” Brienne was thankful despite her surprise, she still remembered to whisper. She turned to Jaime. “ _Did you know she was here_?”

He shook his head.

Lady Sansa, for her part, only had eyes for Lady Margaery and rushed to the woman’s side. The audience of both the other cast members and crew did not seem to register for the young woman, nor did the fact that her mother would surely be angry that she was willing to appear on a reality show.

(Brienne had never seen the Starks covered in the news for anything other than Lord Stark’s politics, wedding announcements [admittedly, that wedding did not come to pass for Lord Robb], or charity banquets. For all the money Winterfell received from acting as a set, the Starks had a great many negative opinions about the entertainment industry. Jaime had remarked once that Lord Stark was rather a hypocrite for treating him as if he had no honor for holding a position the Stark family coffers profited from, and while Brienne had remained silent so as not to cross professional boundaries, she saw her boyfriend’s point.)

“Margaery,” Lady Sansa said, paused, and then delivered a speech Brienne felt had to at least be in part scripted. “When I was a girl, I used to dream about the romance of the songs – of shining knights and beautiful maidens. I wanted to be in the songs, I wanted love from the songs. But only after I met you did I know what love truly looked like, what it _felt like_. You’re my best friend, but you’re so much more, and I’m sorry I panicked — I’m sorry I didn’t take back my words the moment you walked out. But please, if you still love me, give me a chance to make you feel like one of the maidens in the songs.”

By the end of speech both women’s cheeks were covered by delicate tears — Jaime’s eyes were also glistening — and then, like one of the sweeping romantic kisses from those holiday rom-coms, Lady Margaery threw herself at Lady Sansa.

Brienne felt a small bit of shame at her cynicism; Lady Sansa had taken a risk, had spoken from the heart — it was clear from how they looked at each other, that they were in love.

The cast applauded — Brienne couldn’t tell if someone had asked them to or if, like her, they genuinely wanted to — and the two women broke apart, smiling. To Lady Margaery’s credit, she tore herself from Lady Sansa’s side to speak to her dates, who seemed far more understanding of her aloofness than they did ten minutes ago.

Lady Margaery and Lady Sansa soon left the party — hopefully, to have lunch to soak up the amount Lady Margaery had drunk while brooding — to talk, while the other revelers carried on with their own drama.

Having seen the big reveal, Jaime decided that they should also get lunch and pulled Brienne toward the exit for crew.

“Did you know they were dating?” he asked, as if he were a fan of the show — and at this point she might have to consider him so — who wanted inside information.

“No, Lady Sansa admittedly was quite upset about a relationship falling apart before the family departed for Riverrun, but I don’t socialize with the family outside these gates,” she replied.

“Are you going to tell Lady Stark?”

“Of course not! Lady Sansa is a grown woman, it’s not any of my business to get into what we both know will be a conflict over family image.”

“Do you think that Lady Stark will see it that way?”

Upon reflection, Brienne could not say if Lady Stark would see it that way, as sometimes her employer had occasionally expected things of her that crossed the professional boundaries she most desired to keep. But it did not matter; Brienne was paid to do a job and she would do that job and only that job. She did not spend her life seeking to please the whims of the Westerosi nobility.

With one exception. One whose actions implied he wished he didn’t count as such.

Lady Stark had expressed her fondness for Lady Margaery quite a lot over the past year. If being briefly on a reality show was the only cost for her (favorite, by all her actions) daughter’s happiness, surely she would not be too angry. That being said, when the Westflix show _The Iron Throne_ had portrayed the Tully and Stark families in more recent historical events, Lady Stark had demanded they put a disclaimer at the beginning of each episode, clarifying for viewers that the show was a work of fiction.

Perhaps realizing that he had asked an indelicate question, Jaime said, “If you can somehow manage to tear yourself away from the office tonight, production assures me that the lake has frozen well enough for ice skating to be safe. They’ve lit the area with lights to set the mood … and ensured it will remain safe. I know I’ve yet to master winter sports, but I could enjoy myself with you.”

“I’d love to.”

“You can even laugh at me if I have a ridiculous fall, if you kiss any injuries better.”

So she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime and Brienne make a slightly impulsive decision.
> 
> As always, I would love to hear what you think! I hope all of you continue to have a happy holiday season!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At we're in the final stretch of this story! Thanks to all of you who have supported it!! 
> 
> Again, thanks to cytara for beta-reading this thing ... and telling me it was not a bad idea to write it in the first place.

Despite technically working on a reality television production for (almost) two months, Jaime still had very little knowledge of how Amerei had managed to pull together three coherent storylines as filming neared its end. Missandei and Grey were clearly the stable, sweet couple (while it wouldn’t be revealed until the finale, they had already established Grey would move to King’s Landing for Missandei); in editing, Lady Margaery would be portrayed as heartbroken until receiving her own Yule miracle; and even Addam — who had managed to upset every date he had — transformed under Amerei’s touch … as far as the audience would be concerned, Addam’s self-discovery during his adventure at Winterfell would be his true happy ending.

The deal Jaime had originally made with Amerei was for him to only work for the show through the shooting at Winterfell. Other members of the crew would handle filming at the contestants’ homes when they brought their dates home for Yule (or, in Addam’s case, when he spent time in quiet reflection) and then in the Summer Isles, when the leads and their dates met up to make ‘final’ decisions in the New Year.

(The rest of the crew thought Jaime was foolish to pass up trips to far more pleasant locations than the North, but he just wanted to spend time with Brienne.)

Jaime didn’t know, exactly, what it meant to make a final decision in the context of taking someone home for the holiday, but perhaps being a Lannister had made him view the stakes for meeting the family as higher than the average Westerosi. He also didn’t understand how the cast was meant to keep their relationships a secret for a year until the final episode dropped _next winter_ — if they lasted, although Jaime thought they would — especially given Lady Margaery’s social media following.

In two days, then, he would be free from work obligations (if they could be called that … he wondered if Amerei had known something _before_ she had asked him to work on this show; in hindsight, she was far more clever than he had given her credit for, and he was rather ashamed). Which meant he could take Brienne to see _Winds of Winter_ … and perhaps spend the holidays with her. Unless she planned to return to Tarth; he couldn’t ask to intrude on her plans, he didn’t want to rush her into anything. At times, it felt as if she were as confident in her feelings for him as he was for her, but he could feel some hesitancy still.

And he understood why, and that, logically, they had not been together very long, but restraint was not his strong suit.

Especially as time was ticking in one instance: in two days’ time, he would no longer have a professional reason to live in the same region as Brienne. Technically, they could spend the winter together, but then he was due to work on _Dream of Spring_ , and she was tethered to the Starks. He would do long-distance if that was what was necessary, but he didn’t _want_ to be apart. On the rare nights when he didn’t stay in Brienne’s cottage, he _hated_ retiring to his hotel room … and that was less than a mile away from her.

Jaime genuinely was afraid of his inability to cope with hundreds of miles separating them, being unable to comfort her during bad days with her job or feeling her glare when he had taken a joke too far.

Rewriting _Dream of Spring_ to help solve his own personal desires at the expense of the story seemed to be a poor solution, so he decided against the Lannister instincts of manipulation and instead resolved to talk to Brienne.

For someone who had been recently and loudly blurting out his feelings at every opportunity, however, his resolve wavered in the face of rejection. _What if he offered to move to Winterfell, and she didn’t want him permanently there? What if she didn’t think he was the kind of man she could introduce to her family? What if the Starks didn’t approve, **and she actually cared?**_

Lady Sansa was cheering for them. She and Lady Margaery had briefly come up for air to exclaim and threaten over Jaime in turns. Frankly, the way the girl talked, she seemed like she would be disappointed if Jaime didn’t propose to Brienne more than anything else.

Living out her own moment had made Lady Sansa even more dedicated to _love_. As much as the over thirty years of being a Lannister made him want to mock her, apparently less than a year of knowing Brienne had made him _hopeful_ and _considerate._

And he _liked_ who he was when he was with her, could admit to that fact without reservations, could finally indulge in the things he secretly coveted but hadn’t had the courage to seize.

It was just as well that he suspected his job was more or less for show, as these thoughts rattled around in his head to the point that he missed the events of the final good-bye party at the castle for the cast. Not that anything interesting happened; Amerei would likely turn the filmed segments into a montage with sentimental music.

(Jaime wouldn’t tell Brienne this, but he had seen _a lot_ of _Love Island —_ where he was thankful to see none of his family appeared — and even Addam’s relationships, if they could be called that, were not quite as tumultuous as anything he had seen on _that_ show.)

The workday was a cruel, cruel injustice, which was made even more so by a lack of distractions from Brienne. When filming _finally_ finished, Jaime rushed to her office; working long days on set were not entirely conducive to having the relationship he wanted, although after _Dream of Spring_ he would be unemployed and would likely miss the thrill of filming _that_. No future project had caught his eye; after bringing his favorite historical series to life, everything seemed to pale in comparison. As he arrived, he resolved again that he would talk to Brienne; she was sensible, she could help him figure out his next step.

This more easily said than done, as when his eyes met hers, his problems evaporated —

A temporary haze of lust and love, however, could not permanently chase away the questions that tortured him throughout the day. Unfortunately, the impulse to air his concerns to Brienne emerged in the middle of the most passionate kiss of his life. Which had already disconnected his body from his brain, so even years later, he could not account for how he had gone from indulging in such a blissful moment to pulling away, opening his mouth, and with absolutely no context making a declaration:

“I think I should move to Winterfell.”

Jaime’s brain caught up with his mouth just in time to stop himself from saying anything else, which was a little too late, as Brienne had frozen. All he could do was stare at her, waiting for her to process exactly what he had said.

Her response was less than promising: “But you _hate_ the North.”

“But I love you.”

Much to his surprise, Brienne did not hesitate in responding, “I love you too. Of course, I do. You make it impossible not to.”

“You’re saying I’m impossible?”

“Are you really going to ruin this with being impossible?”

He grinned. Brienne wasn’t truly irritated with him — he could tell.

“I love you, and I don’t want to live on opposite ends of the country. After _Dream of Spring_ ’s filming concludes, I have nothing tying me to one place … unless you count the chains of obligation to the Rock. I don’t want you to give a career you’re happy with —”

“But I don’t think I _am_ happy,” she said.

“Then we could talk about ways to make you happy. Would one of them be at least living in the same city as me?”

Although Jaime understood Brienne needed to occasionally pause so she could give proper thought to her decisions, it was all he could do to not impatiently interject, to panickedly tell her if they were moving too fast he could come visit — Seven knows he had to the money to do it as frequently as she would allow — or that if it was the title that bothered her he could legally disinherit himself when the time came or …

“What if we just moved in together?” she asked. “Your production schedule would give us time to figure out the details and if we needed to recon—”

Jaime didn’t want to hear about reconsidering; he wanted her. So he tried to tell her how much that thrilled him with a kiss.

Much later, after they were snuggled up in bed, Jaime teasingly asked, “Weren’t you the one very concerned about the feasibility of Amerei’s show, since the leads only date for a short amount of time?”

“I think I’m beginning to reevaluate my opinions on reality television,” she replied.

Before Jaime could make a quip, however, Brienne stole more than her fair share of the blankets — he didn’t mind, it would give him more reason to encroach on her side of the bed — and said, “I’m still right about how it’s a particularly ridiculous way to get a date for the holidays.”

As Jaime drifted off to sleep, his last conscious thought was he was in no position to judge, given how he had gotten _his_ date for the holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime and Brienne (and the show!) leave Winterfell ...
> 
> As always, would love to know what you think!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with this story, especially as we are spoiled for riches in the tag right now! <3
> 
> Thanks to cytara for beta-reading and encouraging this final push towards the end.
> 
> I'm almost done with the final touches, and I think this will end up being sixteen chapters. This was supposed to be very short so ... ooops?

The White Harbor airport was considered one of the worst in Westeros; the amount of unrecovered checked luggage was seen with a sense of pride by its employees, rather than an embarrassment. Understaffing was a persistent problem, but that was only to be expected, as it was also the most underfunded airport in the country.

Even Lannister money had no effect upon the immediate conditions of the travelers huddled in the airport.

Which was just as well, as Brienne was finally able to grab a cup of coffee with Missandei as they waited for their respective flights; despite Jaime’s assurances that they would be able to enjoy _Winds of Winter_ with no media fuss, Brienne was tempted to steal away on Missandei and Grey’s flight to Naath.

In the final push of the production at Winterfell, Brienne had learned Missandei was a professor of Valyrian at King’s Landing University (the winter break had conveniently fallen during _Twelve Dates of Yule’_ s shooting schedule) and had translated the very book of myths Brienne had recently purchased (but had not yet been able to read because her evenings were no longer quiet). Their shared interest in academia and history had fueled intense, enjoyable conversations between filming and led to a promise to stay in touch beyond the show.

But now, with a cup of too hot coffee in front of her, Brienne felt a bit at sea — she wasn’t particularly good at making friends. She defaulted to asking if Missandei was nervous to introduce her family to Grey.

“I think they’re all just excited I’m taking a break from work,” she said. “Do you mind if we talk about something else? I feel as if all I’ve done for over a month is talk about the show.”

The almost year-long break between filming and the premiere of the show, then, seemed like it would be welcome for at least one cast member. Brienne had felt rather on display herself, given Lady Sansa and Lady Margaery’s keen interest in her relationship with Jaime, particularly once their own had been settled, and understood Missandei’s sentiment perfectly.

“Have you been able to prepare for the spring term at all?” she asked instead.

Missandei grimaced.

“Fortunately, I’m only teaching my introductory courses, but I haven’t been able to adjust my syllabi yet,” she said. “But time away has certainly given me more perspective, an opportunity to rethink how I teach.”

Discussing theories of learning — Brienne had long tried to ensure Winterfell’s tours were _effectively_ educational — carried the conversation forward until their coffees went cold; it had been so long since an academic had talked with her as an equal, as if her credentials meant something even if she now worked outside the traditional university. While Winterfell certainly had allowed her to remain adjacent to history, to dive into the period she loved the most, Brienne had certainly missed small exchanges with colleagues in the hallways between classes or over drinks at conferences.

Only the calls for Brienne’s flight to King’s Landing interrupted their conversation; they hastily exchanged cards, before Brienne wheeled her suitcase back to her terminal to meet Jaime.

Despite the reputation of the airport, once Brienne and Jaime had boarded, their flight went smoothly, discounting Jaime stealing Brienne’s snack; in fact, they arrived at their destination early.

“And you were worried we wouldn’t make it,” Jaime teased.

Now Brienne was worried that they _had_ made it, and that this premiere could not be as possibly lowkey as Jaime promised. _A Song of Ice and Fire_ was a major franchise, after all, although logic dictated that no one would be paying attention to _her,_ given the presence of the celebrities in attendance. After disembarking from the plane, they found themselves in such a rush that Brienne did not have time to panic: they went to the hotel to check-in, ate an extremely late lunch (“You’ll be glad,” Jaime said. “The studio is not going to be offering food to the thousands of people crammed into the theater.”), and then hurried back to the hotel to get ready.

If this event were part of a silly holiday movie — and, thankfully, it absolutely was _not_ — Brienne would receive some ridiculous makeover featuring a too sparkly gown with too high heels. But as she was just one of the many plus ones for a crew member, she only had to make sure her outfit was dressy but did not overly draw attention. Being able to wear her favorite dark blue dress that had gone unused in the North, frankly, made her far happier.

She still experienced a bit of holiday magic, however, as when she slipped out of the bathroom, hair looser than usual and only missing her nice flats to complete her ensemble, Jaime looked at her as if she were wearing couture. 

“You should wear this dress more often,” he said.

“Only if you wear that suit just as often,” she replied — Jaime looked particularly handsome in formal wear, not that she had expected anything less given how he managed to look regal in nothing but sweats.

Jaime offered his arm, just as if they were still in Winterfell, and together they walked the short distance between the hotel and the theater. Their arrival was unfashionably early, and Brienne even acquiesced to walking down the premiere carpet, since it was truly evident no one would be interested in them. And if a picture of the two of them made some gossip column due to Jaime’s family connections, what did it matter? They were happy. They were moving forward. Their life didn’t involve courting high society or public opinion. It was not as if Jaime were the prince — no matter how much he looked like one.

They were directed to their seats in the vast, mostly empty theater and left to their own devices.

“I know you’re eager to fly to Tarth, now that you can,” he said, “But thank you for coming to support me, even if you’ve already seen the film.”

“An unfinished version of the film,” she replied, in an attempt to avoid doing something _ridiculous_ like cry over the fact that her support meant so much to Jaime.

“I’m genuinely surprised you didn’t send me further notes, telling me everything I had gotten wrong.”

“I’m not going to do your work for you, Jaime Lannister.”

“I’ll never expect you to, Brienne Tarth.”

“I never thanked you,” she said, treading the dangerous ground of sentiment. “For putting my name in the credits. I _know_ it was you. And it meant a lot — you certainly did not have to do so.”

He took her hand.

“Of course I _had_ to. You saved me from a hoard of angry online fans, ready to critique any logical error … much less a gaping one. And you’re probably the only reason working with the estate was even somewhat bearable.”

Brienne felt a lump in her throat, that Jaime would do something so kind so casually, but was not given the space to express any feeling aloud, as the very object of those feelings ruined the moment by declaring —

“Now is definitely the optimum time to go to the bathroom before the film starts.”

She was grateful for the advice, and upon extracting herself from her seat, grateful she had not expressed _too_ many feelings, as the theater was approaching capacity.

Time away from Jaime, lost in the sea of the audience, gave Brienne a moment to think. She wasn’t as eager to go to Tarth as she would have been even a month ago. Jaime had glumly muttered something about going to Casterly Rock to face mysterious dates, or perhaps running away to Dorne for some strange reason, when pushed about his holiday plans. Brienne didn’t want to leave him to be miserable.

During her return journey to the auditorium, she ducked into a quiet corner and made a call, before returning to her seat just as the lights began to dim. Jaime could not resist teasing her for her tardiness, given their hour of arrival.

And, then, he spent the next two-and-a-half hours in silence; Brienne caught him watching her face more often than the screen. She took his hand in hopes of calming his jittery nerves, although his fingers continued to twitch in hers. Jaime need not have worried so, she thought, as the final cut of the film managed to balance the studio need for action with surprisingly nuanced explorations of its major characters; even the minor subplots of the series were not forgotten but neatly woven in throughout.

After the lights came up, and they exited the theater to the excited chatter of the audience, however, Jaime still looked shaken.

“Jaime, your team has a hit on its hands,” she said.

“But did you like it?”

“Of course I did. I might have been a little harsh when we met, but really other than the preposterous original scene we don’t speak of, I will admit that when I saw the rough cut, I was impressed with how much you honored each character’s journey, how you were more interested in proper development over creating blockbuster scenes.”

As if a switch had been flipped, all of his confidence was back. He led her to a quiet street corner, pulled her into an embrace, and said, “We don’t have to go to this party. We could go to a cozy café, or my favorite wine bar, or a million places I’m dying to show you. We could go back to our room and get room service, stay there until I have to take you to the airport —”

“Jaime? About me going to Tarth? … would you, I mean, I would like you to come with me. If you wanted to,” she said.

“You would?”

“Just because you have qualms about not subjecting me to your family doesn’t mean I’m as kind.”

“I’m sure your family is wonderful like you.”

“If you agree to come meet them, you’ll likely take that back in two days’ time.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have called my father to ask if I wasn’t.”

“Then of course I’ll go,” he said and picked her up to swing her around; Brienne was thankful no passing pedestrian was in danger of being harmed by their antics.

Jaime radiated happiness, and as the holiday lights that decorated every corner of King’s Landing surrounded them, Brienne could not muster any nerves whatsoever. They were moving forward, they were together.

And that certainty made her feel that maybe, just maybe, she could take charge of her life in other areas, she didn’t have to settle for a mediocre existence. Her family had always supported her, Jaime loved her.

She _would_ make her own future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, we head to Tarth! 
> 
> As always, I'd love to know what you think! Thanks so much for reading!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're (probably) made it to the end of 2020. I hope all of you have a safe and happy new year! 
> 
> Thanks to cytara for beta-reading!

One of Jaime’s more stupid ideas, or perhaps his _best_ idea, was ignoring the majority of his family’s inquiries about his _crush_ (he was offended; he was in _love …_ not that he would tell them _that_ ) and only wishing them a happy holiday. Amerei had kindly covered for him; claimed she needed him for the last of filming, which, while not an excuse that would pass muster with Lord Tywin Lannister, at least stopped any questions of _where_ Jaime would rather spend the holidays.

Despite his lack of communications with Tyrion, Tyrion was (assumedly) drunkenly texting updates over the Lannisters’ Yule gathering. The highlights included more romantic advice (‘u shuld buy her a diamond all women love diamonds’); horrifying news (‘father’s date is Lady Olenna. Tyrell.’); philosophical musings (‘do u think that i am just a cog in the wheel of capital?’); full of bad ideas (‘shld i show up on Tsyha’s doorstep?’); and outright sentimental (‘im sorry i revealed ur secret ur my brother and i just wanted to give u a push to b happy.’)

After that, Jaime could no longer ignore his brother. 

Cersei, it appeared, was continuing to dodge questions about her relationship, so she of all people seemed to understand his limited communications.

It had been two days since Jaime and Brienne had arrived on Tarth, and in those two days, Jaime was reminded of how much he missed living by the Sunset Sea, staring at the waves that would crash against the shore.

Casterly Rock had not always made Jaime miserable. Lady Joanna Lannister had filled every room she entered with sunshine; she had raised Jaime with the expectation that he would one day take over the responsibility of running the family estates, reminding him of how the world had changed and would continue to change.

“The Lannisters can be more than a remnant of an outmoded system,” she had said to Jaime one afternoon right before they had learned of her illness. “Your father … one day preserving The Rock may not be enough; we very well may need to innovate.”

But then she had died, and his father had made him miserable, and his siblings had expressed want for what was legally his position (although, he could not deny Cersei’s assertions about the outmoded patriarchal system), and Jaime had done very little but run away from it all. Jaime could hardly say he thought his family deserved the power they did but occasionally, when he allowed himself to remember conversations with his mother, wondered if there was a way to do far more than merely accumulate wealth at such a rate their ancestors might find it obscene.

The Tarth family seemed to have gotten along quite well _without_ their ancestral home and while they technically still were members of the nobility, they had very little use for honorifics. What they did have use for was intimidating stares and semi-menacing stances when in Jaime’s presence.

If Jaime had not known Selwyn and Galladon Tarth jointly ran Tarth’s largest whiskey distillery, he would have assumed they were detectives, given how they interrogated him in turns. Despite Jaime sulking about his own family’s nosiness, he found he did not mind answering their questions, only hesitating when they asked him about topics that he had not yet discussed with Brienne.

Alysanne and Arianne Tarth were surprisingly mature for being sixteen, but perhaps he had assumed every set of twins was annoying as he and Cersei had been. They had confronted him on the back porch of the Tarth home, just as he was planning to go to bed, arms crossed.

“Are you going to marry Brienne?” Arianne asked.

“You should buy her a sapphire ring to match her eyes,” Alysanne added ever so helpfully. “Brienne says she doesn’t like jewelry, but I’ve _seen_ her look in the window at the store in town.”

“We can give you directions, in case you’re interested,” Arianne said. “And her ring size.”

Jaime saw no harm in having the information, even if he suspected Brienne would see an engagement as a little fast, given how she prided herself on being practical. Just because he knew where to find jewelry on Tarth didn’t mean he had to buy anything and even if he did it didn’t have to be an engagement ring and even if it was, he didn’t have to propose any time soon, and even if he did, she didn’t have to accept if she wasn’t ready.

After extracting quite a bit of information for the sisters, Jaime crept upstairs to Brienne’s room and let himself in, careful not to wake Brienne in case she was sleeping.

She wasn’t — she was working on what appeared to be a very scary looking spreadsheet, with far too many numbers and subcategories.

“Hey,” he said, as he slid into bed. “What are you doing?”

It took a moment for her to register his question.

“The truth is, I have outgrown Winterfell,” she said. “I don’t think the limitations of my position will allow me to grow any further — or add to the public life of the estate any further. I’m trying to figure out a budget if I were to hand in my notice and what my career options are. If we aren’t tied to the North by my job, though, —”

“You truly want to leave? This isn’t about me? I wasn’t sure when you said —”

“I will admit the idea that we’re both happy with our home is a motivating factor, but I’ve been feeling discontentment quite a bit recently.”

“Do you want to move back to Tarth? I do think I’ve won the approval of your sisters, at least.”

“Why ever do you say that?”

“They implied I should marry you.”

“They’ve never implied anything in their lives.”

“It was more of a direction. But perhaps you don’t hate the idea?”

“I love you, of course I don’t hate the idea. But I am currently focused on more immediate concerns … like where we’re going to live and do for a living.”

Jaime had the feeling that he should not suggest that they _could_ make marriage a more immediate concern. Nor mention the family investments that could sustain them three lifetimes over.

Instead, he asked, “Do you want to live on Tarth, be near your family?”

“I don’t know. The island is so small, and I don’t know what either of us would do,” she said. “But I would like to be closer. Until we came home, I didn’t realize how long I had been in Winterfell and how hard it was to get away.”

“To be honest, I might have been looking to rent a townhouse for the _Dream of Spring_ shoot in King’s Landing, since the majority of the shoot is there, but I could buy—"

“There’s a job at the King’s Landing office of Westerosi Heritage I thought about applying for, and a few other positions —”

“Tell me if you don’t like the idea —”

“We’ll have to negotiate about where we’re living, and I have plenty of savings —”

“I’m very happy,” he interrupted, rudely, but had felt the rush to say, “Thank you for letting me into your life. Inviting me for Yule.”

“You’re welcome. There’s something I’d like, if you want to repay me.”

Jaime’s thoughts raced with possibility; he hastily agreed.

“I want you to answer your family’s texts. Your phone has not stopped vibrating all weekend,” she said, then added the emotional gut-punch: “And they’re your family. I know you love them, and I would never want you to be estranged. I promise if you tell them we’re together, I’m not going to suddenly disappear.”

She was … so sweet. And trusting. Jaime could not deny Brienne’s strength of character, however, and so set himself to his task.

But if Brienne thought Jaime replying would end the flurry of messages, she was dead wrong. Information only increased interest. She could have just requested he silence his phone and save everyone the trouble.

There was a particular form of contentment, however, that came from their relationship being recognized by both of their families, and — perhaps Lady Olenna was good for his father’s disposition, given the almost warm text he had received from the patriarch — if Jaime would never admit to _his_ family their slew of congratulations meant far more than he expected, he could, at least tell Brienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, presents are exchanged.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading. I know we're *technically* extending past the holiday season, but well, if there's ever a time that's needed, I think this is it! Happy New Year!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope everyone is able to get some rest this weekend! 
> 
> Thanks to cytara for all of her work beta-reading this story!

The moment the day of gift-giving dawned, Brienne found herself being shaken awake by a grinning Jaime. Now that she knew the eager, open-hearted side of Jaime, she should have expected this and insisted they go to sleep much earlier the night before. Instead, she blearily looked at him as he shoved a thin box into her hands.

“I know we’re doing gifts with your family when everyone else is awake,” he said. “But I wanted to give you this one in private, in case you think it’s too much.”

For a moment, Brienne could only wonder at exactly _what_ he had purchased to express such concern; opening the box revealed two tickets for a trip to King’s Landing to ring in the New Year.

“King’s Landing may not be a winter getaway destination, but I thought we might take the chance to explore … and see the fireworks,” Jaime said. “Unless you hate it?”

“Why would I hate it?”

“I know it’s not Dorne or the Summer Isles or even —”

“It’s thoughtful and practical, and —”

“But gifts shouldn’t be just practical —”

“Jaime, thoughtfulness matters above all else, and this is already so much.”

Jaime’s guilty look told her that she should expect _more_ downstairs. Brienne only hoped that he liked her gift, which materially could hardly compare to a trip, much less anything else; she reminded herself that Jaime loved her, had never said anything but how delighted he was by her small cottage, had only mentioned how homey the Tarth household felt to him.

There was no need to panic about her lack of affluence.

“I think you had a gift you wanted to give me before we went downstairs,” he said.

He _was not_ going to get his present early; Brienne turned to look at him as sternly as she could, given how sweet he had been this morning.

“You are very presumptuous —,” she began, before catching the heat in his eyes. _Oh._ That present. “But I suppose, there might be _something_ here for you to unwrap —”

Brienne momentarily felt particularly stupid in her attempts to flirt, but she should not have worried; Jaime expressed his enthusiasm quite thoroughly. So thoroughly, in fact, that Brienne was thankful her older brother was a heavy sleeper, as his room shared a wall with hers.

Yule magic appeared to be on their side, however, as not only were they _not_ interrupted, but they were able to shower before anyone else stirred.

“I’m rather surprised,” Jaime admitted once they were seated in the kitchen, sipping coffee, “that your family doesn’t rise early.”

“I’m rather surprised you do, given your behavior every other day of the year.”

Jaime pouted, then looked wistful.

“My mother always made Yule special for us as kids. We would creep down the staircase at dawn to see the house transformed, with presents and decorations,” he said. “This year, with you, it’s felt like home again.”

Brienne could only embrace him, hoping Jaime felt the meaning behind the gesture; from the strength of his reciprocation, she understood he had.

Their peaceful moment was almost immediately broken, however, by the rest of the Tarth siblings thundering down the stairs with exuberant shouts and laughter. Nothing could be done but relocate to the living room, where heaping amounts of presents greeted them. Despite his status as first-time guest, Jaime had managed to select a thoughtful present for everyone … and had somehow ended up with the largest pile of presents. No one could say the Tarths were not a welcoming family.

When Brienne opened her present from Jaime, Alysanne and Arianne stopped cooing over their new clothes to watch with hopeful looks and — once the wrapping revealed a velvet box — could barely hold in squeals. The twins were soon disappointed, however, as the box held a pair of tasteful diamond earrings; upon figuring out exactly why jewelry was in any way a disappointing present, Brienne merely felt relief Jaime had not felt the need to propose in front of her family, particularly at the direction of overeager teenagers.

For his part, Jaime did not register being the cause of the Tarth twins’ inability to get everything they wanted for the holiday, as he was too busy grinning over the fact that Brienne had bought him a yearly subscription to the Wintertown roaster’s coffee beans — (“And here I thought you’d never willingly buy a decent coffee,” he said. … “I checked, we can change the address to King’s Landing later, if necessary,” she simply replied.) — and a digital photo frame with the pictures she had collected from their time together since reuniting in Winterfell.

Holidays always passed too quickly, and this chilly day in Tarth was no exception. Galladon demanded Jaime come sample whiskey with him, uncaring of the early hour; the twins disappeared with their new gaming system; and Brienne and her father were left to tidy the living room.

After filling two garbage bags with wrapping paper, breaking down the boxes, and moving abandoned presents from precarious perches, Brienne and her father heated cocoa over the stove as a reward. While Selwyn’s focused on methodically pouring the cocoa into mugs, Brienne took the opportunity to tell her father what she had meant to say throughout their visit but had continually put off:

“Dad, Jaime and I are moving to King’s Landing sometime in the New Year, and I’ll be resigning from my post at Winterfell. We originally set the timeline for after he finishes shooting his new film but, well, I’ve turned in several job applications on a whim, and one non-profit has asked me for further materials,” she said. 

“I know.”

“ _Jaime told you_?” She would have thought he would have been too intimidated to say anything.

“I, er, we all picked up on it,” Selwyn replied sheepishly. “The two of you are not very subtle. The twins can see how serious —”

“The twins clearly have seen too many fairytale —”

“Are you saying you aren’t serious?”

“Of course not!”

“Brienne, you’ve never brought anyone home,” he said. “From the moment we got your phone call, we knew what this was.”

“And what is that?” she asked, more curious than apprehensive, given the implicit support her father had given her by not once questioning any of her decisions.

“The start of a new beginning of course,” Selwyn said.

Given the direction of her thoughts, Brienne could not argue with that, even if she had wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime and Brienne attempt to reorganize their lives.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!! As always, I'd love to know what you think! We're almost at the finish line!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for reading and thanks to cytara for beta-reading!

Saying goodbye to the Tarths — and the island itself — was far more difficult than Jaime would have previously imagined. Perhaps he was merely susceptible to the charms of all who bore the surname Tarth, but whatever the case may be, Jaime had never had such a warm family holiday in his adult life — he looked forward to many more in the future. 

From the vantage point of Tarth, his own family seemed far friendlier, almost appeared genuinely happy he had found someone for whom he cared when Tyrion had (probably tipsily) spilled the beans. Even Cersei had deigned to interrupt her mysterious vacation to inform him that _Joy has informed me you’ve fallen in love. I assume you’ve taken this long because you were waiting for someone actually worthy of you, so congratulations._

By Cersei standards, this was positively effusive praise.

Until he heard his sister say those words over a staticky phone call, however, Jaime did not realize how much his family’s approval would _mean_ to him. Possibly, he could ask Brienne all the things he wanted, if she wanted them too, without worrying he would risk losing her in the future because of negative familial pressure.

Daydreams of the future carried Jaime through the short plane ride from Tarth to King’s Landing (which was just as well, as Brienne was glued to her novel); from the airport to their hotel; from the checkout desk to their room; from their room to the realtor’s office … and once they were viewing townhouses, he had plenty of opinions on what and did not fit his imagined future with Brienne.

Brienne had her own opinions.

Most of the time, fortunately, they had aligned with his in terms of taste. And they had already agreed on a budget and the financial arrangements. But when they had finally found a place that met all of Jaime’s qualifiers _and_ fit their budget, Brienne held out on beginning the process to call it home.

“Why on earth would we ever need a dining room this large?”

“What if we’re entertaining both of our families? It would look positively small!” he cried.

“You imagine our families here, together?”

“Of course. Even Cersei would find little to quibble with once we’ve decorated and purchased proper furniture —”

“I hope you don’t want some ridiculous white couch or other non —”

“Don’t be silly, that would be hard to keep clean with the cat —”

“We’re getting a cat?”

“It could be … nice.”

“I suppose so,” she said.

“Objections about the dining room aside, how does this place feel to you?”

Brienne took several moments before answering; over the months they had been together, Jaime had finally (mostly) gotten used to waiting as patiently as he could for a response. Even if he had to bite his tongue on this occasion so as not to interrupt her process with his ramblings.

“I … I think it could be home,” she said and smiled. “But the responsibility of buying a proper table for the dining room falls on you.”

“Are you sure you want to give me that responsibility?”

“Absolutely. I trust you, and _I’m sure_ you are deeply interested in building a home you would be proud to show your family.”

He was, but he also was interested in trying to make Brienne laugh with ridiculousness, although it appeared she took dining rooms _very seriously_.

Once they had talked it over thoroughly, including negotiations of when they might get a cat, they put in an offer, astonished that they had agreed upon a home so quickly.

As they ducked inside a casual Meereense restaurant for dinner, Brienne teased him, “You know that with this being the last business day of the year, you probably won’t hear back until after the New Year?”

“I have a feeling I’ll be very thoroughly distracted,” he replied.

“If you want to see the fireworks tomorrow night, I hope you don’t expect to be distracted _too late_ into the night.”

Pouting got him nowhere.

Jaime was not too proud to admit to himself, however, that since following Brienne’s regimented bedtime schedule (when he couldn’t get her to ignore it) he felt far more energy in the morning. Living like an undisciplined teenager the majority of the past year had been less rewarding than in previous years; he feared he was getting old.

When Jaime had imagined falling in love before he met Brienne, he had focused on dramatic moments, or even passionate moments, but he had never given much thought to what the everyday would be; how it would feel to share casual dinners, or talk about budgets, or negotiate getting a cat (or two). Nothing had prepared him for the surety of knowing someone would be gentle with him when he had terrible days or ready to celebrate minor joys that were not accomplishments by the Lannister definition of the word or even someone just willing to listen as he talked about a minor point of interest only he cared about.

Every moment with Brienne was precious, he never wanted it to end, he wanted to marry her, and adopt cats with her, and eventually one day have children —

“Jaime? Are you alright?” Brienne asked, startling him.

“P-perfectly fine.”

“It’s just, I’ve paid the bill, and I think they’re waiting for our table,” she said.

They hurried out so as not to delay the staff further, exchanged thank yous and well-wishes for the New Year, and walked back to the hotel at Brienne’s insistence that she needed to do a bit of work before bed. He hoped that given how hard she had worked through the majority of the year, the Starks weren’t asking too much of her; although, he supposed, they should take advantage of Brienne’s brilliance while they could, since soon she’d be with _him_. (Jaime knew better than to voice this aloud, for fears of being called ungenerous.)

Brienne booted up her laptop, while Jaime rooted around in his suitcase to make sure he had packed —

“Jaime!” Brienne cried. “Westerosi Heritage is interested in setting up a phone interview after the new year. My applications aren’t just getting thrown in the trash!”

Forgetting his own quest, he rushed to her side and pulled her into a tight hug.

“You’re the only one surprised,” he said. “You have far too many degrees, _and_ you manage to make Winterfell look like a competently run institution, — I know, you won’t _say_ that, but I _can._ Don’t be your harshest critic. It upsets me because I love you.”

She didn’t reply, except to hold him tighter.

Despite having talked about every step of moving in together, and when to move into together, and where to move in together — although it appeared that their original timeline might be accelerated, which he was _perfectly, incandescently, radiantly_ happy to have modified in his favor — he had worried that King’s Landing had been chosen more for his immediate work than her future. But the fact that even Brienne’s initial job applications had been received so positively, lightened his conscience. She _would_ have more than one reason to leave Winterfell soon enough.

Buoyed by the confirmation he had not, in fact, derailed Brienne’s life, he convinced her that she was indeed correct that a proper bedtime was important.

And if sleep was preceded by a healthy celebration, well, who would blame them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Jaime and Brienne celebrate New Year's Eve.
> 
> This is truly reaching peak Hallmarky levels of plot. As always, would love to know what you think!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last real chapter, we're just missing an epilogue. Hopefully, I'll have it to you by the end of next weekend. I will admit that it has given me a slight bit of trouble, and I'd hate to have this end on a disappointing note.
> 
> I hope all of you are doing well!
> 
> Thanks to cytara for beta-reading and encouraging me ... and not laughing at me when my "very short" holiday fic became fifteen chapters plus an epilogue.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

New Year’s Eve morning did _not_ set the tone for ending the year on a productive note, as when Brienne woke up slightly after noon, Jaime was still in a deep slumber. As tempted as she was to remain cuddled into his side, her conscience provoked her into rising to take a shower, so she could finish reviewing the Starks’ suggested changes to the Winterfell website. While she was technically on vacation, Brienne felt quite guilty that she planned to leave them either when she was offered a new position that suited her in King’s Landing _or_ after the end of _Dream of Spring_ ’s filming, whichever came first. Her initial concerns about rushing her relationship with Jaime aside, Brienne hoped she had a reason to move to King’s Landing as soon as Jaime was needed for pre-production.

If that kind of eagerness superficially seemed to set her up for heartbreak, she did not care. Jaime made it easy to have confidence they would work; her family’s willingness to embrace him (and so enthusiastically) further solidified that confidence; _and_ when he had told her he could imagine entertaining _both_ their families at their new home, she knew everything would work.

While Brienne wasn’t confident that the Lannisters would welcome her with open arms once they met her in person, she _was_ sure Jaime wouldn’t hide her from them. Whatever followed they could work out together, so long as he was committed to _them_.

And once the time was right, she would agree to the cat.

Jaime snored away for another several hours, allowing Brienne to complete all the work she had wanted to finish and then some — in fact, she had to shake him awake when it became evident that he was likely to sleep into the next day if she didn’t intervene.

When he was coherent enough to recognize the time, Jaime merely grinned his most irritating grin and said, “Truly, I did this on purpose, so you’d have time to work without distraction. I know how _distracting_ you find me.”

She tried to give him her best unimpressed stare but couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her chest; the laughter seemed to produce more despondence than any of her (admittedly half-hearted) scornful behavior. Remembering that Jaime possessed a healthy ego alleviated _most_ of her remorse upon seeing his puppy-dog expression, however, by the time she had finished _comforting_ him, the time for a late lunch had passed, so they made do with room service.

Their lazy morning turned into a lazy afternoon and a lazy early evening — it was just as well they had a late dinner reservation. Relationships involved compromise, and Jaime had somehow convinced Brienne to attend a multiple-course dinner in one of the tallest buildings in King’s Landing, so they could have a spectacular view of the fireworks without getting cold. This particular compromise fell entirely in the favor of things that mattered to Jaime (although she _had_ wanted to see the fireworks), but as he insisted it would be romantic, she let him convince her to go somewhere a bit far out of her comfort zone.

Uncharacteristically — for Brienne generally knew better than to care or inquire about her appearance, always fearing the answer — Brienne fussed over her dress, daring to ask Jaime if it was appropriate for dinner. Or if the fact that she had just worn it to the _Winds of Wind_ premiere meant she was committing a fashion faux pas.

Jaime momentarily stopped fiddling with his jacket pockets to gaze up at her and say, “You look even lovelier than last time,” before once again returning to his task at hand.

“Jaime, your wallet is on the nightstand,” she said, thinking it rather odd he had misplaced it, before noticing the time and hurrying them out the door.

It was just as well they were walking, as it reduced Jaime’s ability to be fidgety. The wait to hear back about the townhouse was probably getting to him, but he would just have to endure the quiet weekend.

King’s Landing was still decorated with twinkling holiday lights, while a light dusting of snow added to its beauty. A concert of some sort was playing in King’s Square Park (which was fortunately far away enough from the hotel that it wouldn’t disturb their slumber), joyous revelers were gathering in pubs, children dressed in sparkly crowns were laughing in the streets — the city was alive. Brienne did not particularly relish being lost in the crowd, but with Jaime’s hand in hers, the chaos felt like an infinite amount of opportunities swirling around them.

Fine dining had never registered as a thing Brienne would ever do, much less have any interest in pursuing, but even the first two courses of their meal were enough to change her mind.

If there were generalizations about the great houses that had held onto their estates and titles had become even more snobbish in doing so, then it could be said that minor families like the Tarths had gone in the opposite direction after losing their ancestral home. For generations, the Tarths had dedicated themselves to island trades, as if they could bring back a pastoral age by sheer will, and in so doing, had turned their noses up at anything that reeked of elitism. (Brienne had in fact wondered if her father was not disappointed in her chosen career, given how from a certain point of view, she could be seen as an outsider, desperately trying to hold onto a piece of a world that had long ago left her family behind.) But Brienne wondered if perfectly seasoned scallops or gnocchi in brown butter were enough to shift the family mindset, given the chance. In truth, she wasn’t sure how righteous whiskey snobs could be about such indulgences.

The glass-dome design of the restaurant allowed patrons to enjoy the night sky, while the soft candlelight and private seating ensured the scenery could be called nothing except _romantic_. The extravagance of the wine, the food, the ability to see the fireworks show from one of the best spots in the city made even the premiere of _Winds of Winter_ seem lowkey in comparison. In spite of this, nothing changed between Jaime and Brienne, particularly as he spent the first part of their meal insisting once they moved to King’s Landing, they needed to prioritize building a proper board game collection.

“You only own _Scrabble_ ,” he whined. “You cannot have a lively party with _merely Scrabble_.”

“Perhaps that says more about you and the company you keep than _Scrabble_.”

“We should at least procure _Monopoly_ or _Risk_.”

“After the stories you’ve told me about your family? Perhaps we should introduce them to cooperative board games.”

At that, Jaime had grinned so brightly, Brienne wondered at what she had said to produce such a reaction. Rather than speculate and give herself a case of nerves — Jaime’s bout earlier had been enough for both of them — she instead added, “We’ll have to get _Ultimate Direwolf_ for when the twins come to visit; it’s all they like to play. I’m surprised you weren’t suckered into a game.”

Jaime hastily agreed and, as their entrees arrived, began to fidget again.

“When we get the house,” he started —

“Isn’t it a little presumptuous to assume we’ll get the house?” He had certainly had a change in confidence quickly.

He sighed. “ _If_ we get the house, do you want to throw a … party? Invite our families and friends for a … housewarming?”

“That could be nice.” So long as she didn’t get stuck planning the entirety of it.

“A-and you’re sure? That you want to do this?”

Brienne did not need to think before replying.

“Yes,” she said.

His anxiety about the house must have crept back in, as he asked her a series of longer, less pointed, and more garbled questions through the end of dessert; Brienne tried to answer them with as much confidence and support as she could.

Once they were left to their after-dinner drinks, Jaime finally seemed to resolve upon talking about whatever was bothering him. And then he pulled a small box — a box that looked a lot like the one that housed her new earrings — out of his jacket pocket and put it on the table.

“I won’t make a big production out of this, since you’d hate that,” he said. “But all I want is to marry you, if you want to marry me. And why wait if it’s what we both want? If we’re both sure? We could have a long engagement, or you could give me back the box when you’re ready if you’re not, or I could toss the ring into the river and we could live together —”

Brienne opened the box. The sapphire ring she had admired for as long as she could remember was in the box.

“How —” she began, and then remembered Jaime had talked to her sisters.

 _Of course he would listen_.

For a moment, Brienne saw their whole lives stretched out before them — happy and flourishing, together; perhaps this could end in ruin, but they had a _chance_. So she did what she had promised herself she would do at the beginning of the holiday season — she took what she wanted.

“Jaime, I love you,” she said. “I’d marry you tomorrow.”

Brienne had meant it as a figure of speech, but Jaime seized upon it eagerly. “Would you really?”

“Is it even possible?”

“If you wanted to run away to Dorne — we could put that star-crossed Regency couple of yours to shame.”

“What do you mean of mine? You’re the Lannister here.”

“I won’t be the only one for very long,” he teased, taking her hand and sliding the ring on her fourth finger — it fit perfectly. Of course it did.

And then he pulled her to his side of the table and kissed her, just as the fireworks erupted over King’s Landing. Of course they did.

Brienne was not going to argue with the signs. If the universe was telling her to embrace impulsive romanticism — and, more importantly, if _her_ entire being was telling her Jaime was _it_ — she certainly wasn’t going to start the New Year in any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, we catch up with everyone a year later. Spoiler alert: it is more fluff.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, your support, leaving kudos, comments ... everything. This community has made a bad time brighter! I would love to hear from you!! <3


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very, very late. And for that I apologize, but the cumulative effect of personal and global events just exhausted me. Truthfully, I was afraid that I wouldn't finish the epilogue (or anything!) at a certain point, despite having the beginning written.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for any feedback you left — all of you are very kind. And thank you if you've returned, despite this concluding a bit, uh, out of season. 
> 
> Thanks to cytara for cheering me on as I worried about getting this done.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

After three-hundred sixty-four days of marriage, Jaime Lannister could proclaim with certainty that this was the happiest he had ever been.

It was really too bad his wife was likely to kill him literally on their anniversary after their guests had left. Little did the cheerful crowd currently waiting to ring in the New Year know that soon their joy would turn into grief at his untimely passing. Jaime supposed that if he was to die, he might as well go willingly and ask for a final request; Brienne had always been generous, even in anger.

As he wound his way through their home to find his suspiciously absent wife, he was stopped by far too many Lannister cousins. Daven had come _this close_ to breaking their coffee table before Aunt Genna had pushed him into a chair. Cersei had procured champagne for Joy, Alysanne, and Arianne that Jaime had swiftly confiscated. Cleos was sulking in the corner of the kitchen, which was technically less destructive than what anyone else was doing, but was far more unnerving. At least Amerei had someone transformed Lancel into a decently entertaining person, and he was currently sharing whiskey with Galladon.

Jaime snuck up the stairway that led to his and Brienne’s bedroom, in the event she had gone to check on the cat.

At the distinguished age of three, Ser Pounce had been officially adopted into the Lannister-Tarth family when principal photography on _Dream of Spring_ had finished. Ser Pounce, in Brienne’s words, was far more well-behaved than Jaime but grew shy around strangers and had hidden under their bed at the first sign of visitors that afternoon, when the Tarths had arrived to help setup.

Jaime cracked the door to the bedroom as wide as he dared and slipped inside to find wife and cat; Brienne did not look upset, although the same could not be said for Ser Pounce, who had latched onto his owner and was furiously purring.

“I’m so sorry,” he began —

“Whatever for?”

For their fathers and Aunt Genna gathered in a huddle, discussing Seven knew what about the _future_. For Tyrion’s _comments_. For thinking it would be a good idea for their extended families to meet on such a high-pressure night that included a party of their friends and acquaintances.

(Addam was familiar with the Lannisters (and for some reason had even dared to bring the new woman he was seeing as a date), but Jaime _hoped_ everyone else would still speak to them after the New Year.)

“I, er, for throwing a party that upset our cat,” he said — if Brienne hadn’t noticed the Lannister nonsense, he wasn’t going to sign his own death warrant.

“Ser Pounce will be fine,” Brienne said. “I just wanted to make sure he felt safe.”

Since Ser Pounce now appeared to be content to bask in the quiet of the room, Jaime encouraged Brienne to return to the party to supervise the guests who actually needed it … and quietly admitted to himself that his wife was right and he was a _touch_ over dramatic. Brienne was far more resilient than he was, and she was unlikely to kill him over a party, at any rate.

Upon returning to the disaster zone, they were waved over to what appeared to be a reunion of the _Twelve Dates of Yule_ cast, as Missandei and Grey, Margaery and Sansa, and Addam and his new girlfriend Dacey stood together.

“We were just asking Dacey if she had the opportunity of seeing the show,” Margaery said, smirking.

“I’ve told her about it,” Addam mumbled, appearing for once to be incredibly embarrassed.

Dacey was unbothered, “I don’t have a particular interest in reality television. And this seems like it would be particularly boring to watch, since I know the end.”

Addam turned to Missandei and asked if her students had recognized her from the show.

“The show dropped its first episodes during finals,” she replied. “And by the time we return, if any of them _did_ see it, they’ll have forgotten about it in favor of one of those Westflix dramas.”

Although _Twelve Dates of Yule_ had received less press than most of Amerei’s shows (much to the relief of its cast, Jaime thought), the reviews had been overwhelmingly positive. And from what he could gather from social media, the fans were happy to know both Missandei and Grey and Margaery and Sansa had stayed together.

=

They were even happier when Margaery and Sansa revealed on the reunion show that they had recently become engaged.

Jaime and Brienne had seen both couples fairly often through the year after their move to King’s Landing. While Brienne had never been close to Sansa in Winterfell, with the professional separation from the Starks came an opening for the two to be friendly acquaintances. The Starks had been disappointed in Brienne’s resignation (and, Jaime suspected, her impulsive marriage … they had been stoically silent on that point) but had congratulated her on obtaining her new position at Westerosi Heritage’s office in King’s Landing. Jaime smugly — privately — hoped the Starks regretted ignoring Brienne’s ideas now, although Podrick appeared to be competent enough. But the boy had been trained by Brienne, so really, he was probably more than Winterfell deserved.

If Lord and Lady Stark had been upset by their daughter’s appearance on the show, well, the Lannisters had not been subject to their censure. Perhaps the overwhelmingly positive public response to Sansa and Margaery’s engagement had counterbalanced their ill-feeling, particularly when their eldest child continued to be a disappointment.

While Sansa and Margaery sought out the limelight through social media, Missandei and Grey had been happy to privately build a life in King’s Landing (Grey, in fact, could not be found on any social network). Missandei had been granted tenure, while Grey had been hired as an associate attorney at a prestigious law firm. Whatever holiday magic that seemed to have touched his relationship with Brienne appeared to work for every other couple involved with _Twelve Dates of Yule_.

The brief refuge from the Lannister and Tarth families was not to last, as Cersei demanded everyone gather around as she gave a speech that in theory was to celebrate Jaime and Brienne’s anniversary but, in reality, focused more upon _her._

Since Brienne was nothing like Cersei, however, his wife seemed merely relieved that someone else had taken the spotlight.

Amerei decided to “save” the party, however, and soon began to tell the story of how Jaime and Brienne began dating, which the audience seemed surprisingly charmed by.

“— And, then, after I discovered Brienne took Jaime home to Tarth, I realized just how close reality can be to _reality television_. Critics always complain about the overblown nature of my work but —”

After Amerei had finally been distracted by Lancel — and Tyrion had convinced a very dubious Jaime and Cersei to participate in a Lannister-Tarth game night — the bells counting down the New Year rang out across King’s Landing.

Jaime counted down with enthusiasm at the thought of being able spend yet another year with Brienne … and at the idea that soon it would be socially acceptable to send his family home.

As Cersei once again took the spotlight to lead a final countdown to the New Year and the joyous chorus of their family, friends, and semi-recognizable acquaintances rang out, Jaime pulled Brienne out the backdoor and into the garden, unwilling to miss a clear view of the fireworks.

The snow reflected the changing colors of the light show, making their first kiss of the year even more magical than the previous year’s.

Brienne pulled away and asked, “So do you have a resolution?”

If he told her he simply resolved to spend another happy year together, she would smile softly and agree. They could face anything together … even game night. Content with that knowledge, he said, “Finally convince you to be ruthless at _Risk_.”

Her answering laughter assured him that he would get everything he hoped for this year and, perhaps if he was lucky, he would be able to give her as much joy as he gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's a wrap for this. 
> 
> If you're looking for more deeply in love Jaime and Brienne, you can check out my WIP [_if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more._](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529812/chapters/61943032). I have the majority of the chapters written, I simply took a posting break to write this little holiday story ... that turned into a bigger break than I intended. I'll be updating on Sundays when I can manage! 
> 
> I hope you're all safe and doing as well as you can amidst all this. Thanks everyone! As always, I love to to hear what you think!


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